


Jojo's Bizarre Adventure: Shadowed Suspicion Volume IV

by arcanedreamer



Series: Jojo's Bizarre Adventure: Shadowed Suspicion [4]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, ジョジョの奇妙な冒険 | JoJo no Kimyou na Bouken | JoJo's Bizarre Adventure
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Crossover, Gen, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-24
Updated: 2016-07-22
Packaged: 2018-03-31 23:25:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 23
Words: 28,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3997153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arcanedreamer/pseuds/arcanedreamer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Buffy the Vampire Slayer is the story of the Slayer. In the words of Giles, "Into every generation is born a chosen one... she alone will stand against the vampires, the demons and the forces of darkness. She is the Slayer." People like Giles were the Watchers, the English mentors of the Slayers. At least...that was the story.<br/>Buffy found a way to unlock the sleeping power within all Potential future Slayers, and now the Slayers are many. Those who survived the last battle helped to form the next Watcher's Council.<br/>Investigation of a certain stone mask sparks inquiries into the history of the ancient vampire relic, and some surprise discoveries are made along the way, including that of another legendary line of vampire hunters.<br/>Buffy, the other Scoobies, and their new ally are searching for Xander as well as discovering that the trial and the attack are part of some greater scheme...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. War of the Elements

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Buffy, Josephine, and the Scoobies are recovering from the attack, as well as doing some investigation of their own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Doing research on a character who will be appearing but will probably be very different than canon. Originally I wasn't going to do more than borrow said character, but my wish to at least stay true to character's voice means that it's not going to be that easy. I am working on it though! ~Dreamer

            “—murder of a husband and wife yesterday in Uttlesford. The police are not releasing any information on the deaths, but sources say that they were particularly gruesome. After the strange incident just a few days ago, the public is raising concerns that—”  
            “Slaypire, or not Slaypire?”  
            “—upstanding members of the community, having served as foster parents to a number of—”  
            “Not.” Dawn decides, glancing over at Andrew, who’s still fiddling with their new computer system. “It probably was one of the kids.”  
            “Dawn!” Buffy’s voice is sharp, and her sister merely rolls her eyes in response.  
            “What? According to Xander, the foster system sucks.” She realizes that she’s probably said more than she should have, but it’s too late to take it back.  
            “When was boytoy in the system?” Faith asks, attention caught.  
            “Briefly, when he was seven. He wandered away, and wouldn’t answer any questions about his parents, so they assumed he was a runaway orphan. Or something,” Willow explains after a few long moments of silence, looking apologetic.  
            “Jessica me was probably too drunk to notice him wander off.” The voice sounds flippant, but Josephine hits the wall with her good hand. She grunts a little at the pain and carefully lowers herself into one of the computer chairs, spinning listlessly. “I don’t need this,” she whines yet again, gesturing with the sling carelessly.  
            “Until June declares your arm fully healed, you’re not to take that off. And stop jostling it so much.” Giles limps in, carrying a pile of books.  
            Josephine waits until he’s walked past, then sticks out her tongue at the former librarian’s back. Willow starts giggling helplessly, and they earn a Watcher’s long-suffering sigh.  
            “Well, at least it’s really cool that you have witches who can heal stuff and see the future,” Josephine’s enthusiasm has returned, none the worse for wear.  
            “Should you be carrying that many books on your own? And shouldn’t you be wearing your boot thing?” Buffy asks innocently, which earns yet more giggling, even from Andrew. Her entire right shoulder is bandaged, and she can’t move it much. It’s a pain getting dressed or anything else, but there’s some satisfaction in doing better than Giles or Josephine at this. She’s not sure how long it’ll postpone the complaints, but at least it’s an improvement.  
            Giles decides to ignore the question and pretend he hadn’t heard it. It’s a skill he’s very good at, but Buffy will hound her Watcher if she has to. “These are the books Angel recommended. Most cover the line of Aurelius and what little is known of vampire magic, but at least one might reference the stone mask depending on how it’s translated.”  
            Josephine slips out, fairly surreptitiously. Buffy would write it off as another Xander mannerism, Josephine not wanting to get involved in the research party, if she didn’t see the woman sneakily pulling a phone from her pocket as she got to the door. Buffy nods to Giles and follows, as quiet as a Slayer can be. It’s an odd phone, a flip one with an odd combination of silver and pink and a strap with a weird pink bunny hanging off it. It seems cute and girly and not at all the sort of thing a mom would have, but then again, this is Josephine.  
            She has to move slowly to not get caught, so she doesn’t catch the start of the conversation. And what she does hear is disappointingly useless. It’s in Japanese. At least, she thinks it’s in Japanese. Andrew and Xander had forced her to watch a few of the Japanese animation things, and even though they had subtitles she had no idea what was going on, but then again, she’d had training watching things she didn’t understand. She needs to bug Willow and Xander, whenever they finally find the moron, to watch Bollywood movies again. It’d been too long. She has to quickly get out of there and wipe at her eyes before the tears actually started, because that, as Xander would say, wasn’t of the good. He’d be all right. He had to be.  
            Buffy grabs soda for everyone, just to have an excuse to be out of the room. Andrew looks like he could kiss her, despite the fact that he doesn’t really think of her like that, and wipes away some sweat before going back to messing with whatever wiring setup thing he’s doing.  
            Only a few people are actually helping out with the research. Faith is blowing bubbles with her gum. Spike looks like he’s more interested in the gruesome pictures than actually trying to translate whatever heavy book he has. Giles is massaging his head as if he’s already starting to get a headache, but at least they haven’t driven him to the point of glasses cleaning yet, and he’s sitting down. So it’s fairly easy for Willow to get everyone’s attention by clearing her throat. “I did some digging. They really tried to hide it from me, but I’m better than they are. It turns out that Wesley was Xander’s source of information.”  
            “Wesley? Didn’t he end up in LA?” Buffy asks, surprised. Wouldn’t Angel have mentioned this?  
            Spike frowns and looks like he’s about to answer, but is interrupted.  
            “Actually, no.”  
            They all whip around. Josephine looks ready for a fight, so the blonde Slayer moves slightly in front of her, just to give her the message. With whatever thing Xander’s mom does with doors, that might not actually stop her at all, but. It’s the thought that counts.  
            Angel looks apologetic, but then, that’s nothing new either.  
            “Nobody asked for you, Peaches.” Spike is trying, hard, not to go into Game Face, but they really don’t have time for the two to get into another ‘who’s the better vamp, then’ match.  
            Giles moves to a standing position, wincing a little as he does so. “Angel, as an employee of Wolfram and Hart, I cannot allow you to—”  
            His statement is met with a tired if wolfish smile from the vampire. He still looks good, but then, as a vampire, that’s kind of to be expected, too. “I resigned under duress, sort of. The Circle of the Back Thorn’s mostly dead.”  
            “What do you mean by ‘actually no’?” Andrew asks, gingerly leaning against the desk. Buffy had learned a lot of fictional curse words when he’d accidentally slammed his splinted fingers when setting up the computers earlier. Josephine had looked as if she was filing away some of them for future reference.  
            “Wesley’s dead,” Angel tells them bluntly.  
            Willow frowns. “But that’s what I found—it’s all legit…”  
            “Wolfram and Hart…” Giles begins, voice mostly that of yet another Watcher lecture with only the faintest trace of horror, “…has been known to continue their contracts of servitude after death.”  
            Angel nods, adding, “…and that’s not even counting all the shapeshifters we know of.”  
            “I think it’s safe to say that whoever it was, they had their own agenda when helping Xander,” their former warlock comments.  
            Faith just whistles.  
            “Yes, thank you Faith.” Giles is frowning. Was his hearing hurt in the battle, or does he just have a headache? Yet another thing she needs to bring up with June, and then maybe the witch can force her stubborn Watcher to actually rest.  
            “You’re all right, Buffy?” She hears Spike swear, kick something, and storm off, but it sounds like someone’s actually following him, so that’s something.  
            “Yeah, well, you know me. I’m a-ok.” Buffy smiles, and gets a smirk in return.  
            “I do know you. That’s why when the Devon Coven mentioned that you haven’t been complaining about your shoulder, I thought something was wrong.”  
            She pouts playfully, but they’re interrupted very insistently by a loud cough coming from somewhere around her Watcher. “Does anyone happen to remember the utter catastrophe we have on our hands?” He’s two seconds away from throwing up his hands and following Spike.  
            Instantly, Angel sobers. “You’re talking about the stronger fledges I was running into, right?”  
            “They’re Slaypires.” Dawn corrects him cheerfully, and watches as the varying shades of horror cross his face.  
            “That explains how I felt around—” He cuts himself off mid-sentence, mostly because this is the point that Xander would have started to tease him for phrasing. Not that it was what it sounded like. Just as a Slayer can sense a vampire, a vampire can sense a Slayer. Pretty much Giles-rote.  
            Buffy occasionally wonders how it differs, but is perfectly content to let that stay academic, thank you. She’d prefer not to be a Slaypire if she can help it.  
            “How can I help?” Angel corrects himself, looking to Giles. “And…where’s Xander?” From the look on his face, he’s not sure how to feel about the Scooby that pretty much hates him, but he doesn’t want to hear he’s dead, either.  
            Giles looks tired and older than usual and not a little bit guilty. “He warned us about the mask, and had we listened perhaps further events would not have gone so horribly awry. As it is, he’s…elsewhere.”  
            “We’re looking for him, and we’re going to find him alive,” Josephine adds. She sounds just as cheerful as Dawn, but there’s a fierce undercurrent that earns a look of respect.  
            She’s not sure exactly how long it takes them or how much of the story Angel follows, from everyone trying to tell him what’s happened all at once or adding things that seemed important and were left out or commenting, but there’s a sense of home, of belonging, that’s been gone since before Sunnydale fell, and she allows herself to enjoy the feeling.


	2. Understanding or Forgiveness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Buffy does some thinking and confronts Willow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully the next chapter will be faster in coming, but my beta's still super busy. I've been able to get my hands on research, which was way too hard. And I got sick, which didn't help. I hope everyone's doing well. It's both exciting and sad that Stardust Crusaders is over now. Everyone keep hoping for Diamond is Unbreakable, please.  
> ~Dreamer~
> 
> Oh, the Powers that Be, also known as the PtB, are ostensibly the 'good guys', the 'angels', opposed to the demons. They don't step in much, despite all the suffering. Which might be a World of Cardboard thing, and might show, instead, that they're all as self-serving as the former Watcher's Council.

            Angel and Spike are off somewhere. She should probably be worried about that, Buffy knows, but she already has enough to worry about. She hasn’t missed this, not one bit. Okay, so if normal life involves just the food service industry she’d rather pass, but it has to have more to offer than that, doesn’t it?  
            And yet, she can’t walk away from this, not from her girls who have been vamped, maybe with their permission, maybe not. She can’t walk away from Xander or this fight, and maybe it sucks because sometimes it’d be nice if she didn’t have to be the one who had to fight, especially now that there are so many Slayers who supposedly can take her place, but.  
            “Hi, Buffy.” Willow’s quiet and for a few seconds reminds Buffy of ancient days when Willow was a shy hacker, not the confident (honestly maybe too confident) witch.  
            “I don’t think I ever realized. I whi—er, legitimately complained about my duties, but I never really stopped to think I wouldn’t walk away and leave people to get hurt, did I?” she states wonderingly.  
            Willow manages a watery smile. “We were teenagers. We couldn’t actually look around and see that the actions we took affected other people.”  
            Buffy laughs. “Okay, then, what’s your excuse this time?” At her friend’s wild-eyed look, she elaborates a little more seriously, “Wil, if you’re going to get forgiven this time, you’re going to have to put in more effort than plates and plates of cookies.”  
            She’s about to burst into tears again. It’s not like Willow’s not going to get a pardon this time, but she’s definitely going to have to go the extra distance. The redhead’s acting like the world is collapsing, and, well, yes, maybe without Xander, it might be. “Because of you and Giles, he’s out there in danger, on his own.”  
            Willow pulls out a silk handkerchief and blows her nose. That’s new, but then, HQ, when they’d been there anyway, was a big place. “That’s what Ken told me. Almost word for word.”  
            “Ouch.” Not the person the Slayer would willingly be compared to. “Well, Andrew brought up some important stuff.”  
            “Andrew?” Instantly Willow looks guiltier. “I mean…”  
            “I know, but yes, Andrew of the Daily Diaries from Slayer HQ.” The blonde allows a moment of amusement before relaying the information. “I think he tried to tell Giles. I also think that Giles is trying to run everything as Head Watcher and it’s too much.”  
            “Why didn’t you—”  
            “—tell him?” Buffy finishes. “I did. He’s kind of stuck in tunnel territory, Wils. As in ‘I can’t see anything to the sides of me, just this dark narrow field of vision which is dark and I hope the end of the tunnel comes soon’ mindset. I’d think you’d know that, given the amount of plotting the two of you were up to, the past couple of weeks.”  
            “I think you’re projecting your fear of being buried alive again, Buffy.” The tone’s absentminded, until Willow thinks about what she’s just said and blushes prettily. “Um, and he’s…No one wants to lose Xander, and I think we’re all still a little in shock from the First, so…”  
            “Obsessive much?” Buffy nods. “That’s kind of what I expected. Still disappointed, and I think everyone would appreciate Morale Cookies.”  
            The hug nearly knocks her over. Would have, if her muscles weren’t able to compensate easily for…well, most mortal’s weight, anyway. “W-wait, you mentioned something about Andrew saying something useful.”  
            “Yeah, but the next scheduled apocalypse is already here, so no need to search the skies for one,” the Slayer states matter-of-factly and begins counting off on her fingers. It’s not counting very high, but they’re important numbers anyway. “Given his totally evil knowledge of magic, he suggested that one, maybe the prophesy thing didn’t come from somewhere of the good. In which case, it was to manipulate us all into the charade of a trial thingie. And it wasn’t real, because Xander showed me that Perry Mason movie, and there wasn’t a defense counsel to yell back or anything.”  
            Willow’s silently making an ‘o’ face. It kind of looks like she’s trying to actually say ‘oh’ but no sound’s actually coming out, and she hasn’t realized that yet. Eventually she realizes she looks ridiculous, closes her mouth, and clears her throat before trying again. “I-it didn’t feel like that, but…”  
            “You what?” Buffy states faintly and checks Willow’s eyes for black engulfing darkness, just in case she has to fight one of her best friends again.  
            “I-it’s not!” Willow’s waving her hands frantically. The gestures don’t really make sense, but this kind of is real, original Willow goodness, here. “Althenea shared it with me. It didn’t feel evil, but I don’t know for sure; I can ask her, and the other members of the Coven. I don’t remember all of it, so I could be wrong?”  
            The Slayer pulls a face. “Sounds kinky, Wil.” At the even more scarlet look, she elaborates, “…the vision. Why would you forget stuff if it was from all-good sources?”  
            “Well, you’re forgetting the Powers that Be,” Willow points out, and it’s a good point. Way too good of a point.  
            “And now I can’t keep forgetting them,” she nearly growls, before going on to Point Two and Point Three. “Maybe it was, like, what’s the thing from Doctor Who that we were watching to make Xander all jealous in Africa, even though I didn’t understand everything anyway? A fixed point, or whatever. Or even more than that, a self-fulfilling prophecy? Because you knew about it, and tried to avoid it, it happened?”  
            The redhead looks really, really sheepish. “Uh, yeah, all very possible things that we didn’t take into account. I mean, Giles and I were going through research texts until our eyes nearly bled, but not actually bled because someone would’ve noticed and then there would’ve been questions and he probably would’ve yelled and, Buffy, I really don’t like Giles yelling. He’s like an actual authority figure and everything.”  
            “I hope I am an actual authority figure, Willow,” an English accent corrects dryly. The girls jump like they’re teens again, and it’s familiar. Still, Buffy can’t claim she hasn’t missed this humor or the wry smile her Watcher’s now wearing. “We were looking so hard for matching prophecies that we didn’t bother to consider the source.” He pauses, then continues, “Angel and Spike have gone to try to collect more information from the demonic population. And Jessica—I mean, Josephine—seems to be preparing for another search party mission. It might be wise to have someone accompany her.”  
            “Are you ordering me to go with her?” Buffy asks, at the same time as Willow states fiercely, “I’m going.”  
            Giles is looking at them with pride. “I’m still your Watcher, I hope, despite mistakes made and…well, despite mistakes made. However, I think we’ve both stopped pretending you listened to any orders I ever made. I’m not entirely certain that we should trust her, but perhaps lack of trust is our failing in the first place. And perhaps the last groups were a touch too large, so drew attention. As much as staying here to recover makes sense, I realize that inaction is difficult for you, and we can hardly leave Xander to his own devices, never mind the young man who came for him. And the influence of Wolfram and Hart. Still, I can at least ask you to be careful.”  
            “I thought we stopped pretending I ever was, too,” Buffy remarks, and it’s enough for the long-suffering sigh that she honestly misses. She giggles, and adds, “Well, but I’ve always returned, so it’s worked out.”  
            Willow’s making another sad face, but Buffy doesn’t want to talk about dying or any past resurrection mistakes that may have been made. The red-haired witch really needs to get her guilt-priorities on straight and actually work on the current one.


	3. End of Innocence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Buffy, Josephine, and Willow go looking for Xander.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hurrah, another chapter! Unfortunately, beta was more busy than he expected, and then gmail decided not to properly show him the chapter...but, wait, you're not here for that, you're here to read a thing. Have fun!  
> ~Dreamer~

            “Buffy! I was looking for you!” Breathless, worried. It’s like nothing’s changed. But then again, does Angel ever change? Do vampires change, really change? Or does the change just kind of stick you in high school forever, or whatever you were when you were dead? Spike changed, and Angel changed, but they were kind of…different.  
            Bad Buffy thoughts. No more thinking about enemies of the fangy variety than you can help.  
            But Angel’s not an enemy. But they’re not exactly friends. And this is a lot more thinking on the subject than she’d been planning to do. It wouldn’t really surprise her if Josephine would just slip out without telling anyone, since it’d be the thing she would’ve done when she was younger. She manages a tired smile. “We definitely have to catch up, Angel, but now isn’t the best time. I have to catch Josephine.”  
            He becomes instantly serious, and that’s not new, either. But it means he considers her a potential threat. Just to him, for being a vampire, or is it more serious than that? “That’s probably a good idea.”  
            He catches her questioning look and nods. “It’s not…I haven’t come across anything to suggest she’s anything other than what she appears—a reckless monster hunter. But she’s not telling us everything, and that doesn’t sit right.”  
            “We’re not telling her everything, either,” Buffy points out. “It’s not like we’ve given her a million reasons to trust us.”  
            “Maybe working for Wolfram & Hart made me more paranoid. And yes, I know, we’ll be talking about that. Later.” He sighs and seems to come to a decision. “Xander may not like me, and I might not like him, but I wouldn’t want him dead. He’s good protection for you.”  
            Buffy blinks, incredulous. “Xander?”  
            The grin she gets in turn isn’t completely innocent. “The demon registered him as a threat. Which can only mean good things about his place as one of your ‘Scoobies’. And I get the feeling he’s not fond of vampires himself, so it’s been mutual.” As she’s gawping, he continues. “The reason I was looking for you was that the demons are all restless. There’s something that even they’re all afraid of on its way. Something called ‘The Siphon’.”  
            “Okay, specifics. What does it look like? When’s it coming? What’s its Cliffs Notes say?”  
            “I…we didn’t actually get that much out of them,” Angel admits. “They really, really don’t want to talk about it.”  
            “Useful much?” She doesn’t mean to be annoyed, or take it out on him, but he’s here.  
            “And that’s why I didn’t want to bother you with it until we discovered more,” Spike’s smug voice drifts over. He’s sitting on the table, looking nonchalant.  
            “Well, if I can get the ugly to introduce itself, I’ll run away until we can figure out more.” Buffy shrugs. She’s not about to get into the middle of this. No matter how handsome the two vampires are, or how much they seem to want to drag her into it. Angel looks like he wants to argue. “I’ll have Josephine and Willow with me, so I’ll be more careful.” She kisses his cheek.  
            “Buffy, she really is sneaking out!” Willow sounds winded and is probably running as fast as she can. Okay, well, can you outrun a Slayer?  
            “Sorry, boys, gotta run!” She waves and begins to run. It’d be nice if she could really outrun her problems like this, but she’s not sixteen anymore. She knows it’s not possible. It’s a nice thought.  
            Josephine’s ahead, moving at a respectable, non-civilian pace, and seems to be completely unaware of her surroundings. She’s also completely sweat-free, which is a trick Buffy wouldn’t mind knowing the secret to. “Sorry, I would’ve waited but it seems like we’ve done enough waiting.”  
            Of course, someone as experienced at fighting wouldn’t be caught unawares like that.  
            “I totally agree,” the blonde agrees with a smile. “Would you mind waiting for Willow, though? She’s in cookie-guilt mode, and she’s not as up with the pace as we are.”  
            “Cookie rations are always welcomed. Though I’d have to say, guilt flavor is not my favorite.” As much as it makes her smile, it hurts a little. It’s a very Xanderish thing to say.  
            “You’ll have to take it up with the witchy one. And here she is.” They turn to see a very out of breath Willow.  
            “H-hi. Cookies, Mrs. Harris?” Willow offers a container. The Slayer really hadn’t expected her to bring the cookies, but then, it was bad enough that the witch was practically carrying them everywhere, so maybe she should’ve seen it coming.  
            Josephine grabbed three and stuffed them all in her mouth, chewing noisily. When her mouth was at least free enough that she’d be understandable, she warned them, “I wouldn’t say that name if I were you; it’s kind of risky. It makes the wish to punch something really, really hard rise within me.”  
            “Warning noted.” Willow’s shy again, but she’s also got a hopeful smile on her face.  
            “What’s the plan, Miss J?” This, apparently, is acceptable, as no warning is forthcoming.  
            Josephine licks the crumbs off her fingers. “We made a mistake, just haphazardly checking hotels and streets and stuff. If there’s anything I remember from my vague memories, it’s that my son likes food. We check the restaurants.” She pulls out a photo of Xander that she’d found somewhere in the hastily gathered supplies from the mansion. Buffy hadn’t even known it had been taken, but then, they’d missed a lot, lately.  
            “Why didn’t I think of that?” Willow sounds frustrated, even hitting her own forehead lightly.  
            “You were too busy worrying about a prophecy.” So Buffy wasn’t the only one withholding forgiveness just yet, judging by the tone.

            As good as the plan was, they’d had little success by late afternoon. After one query, the three searchers sat down to eat a few sandwiches before continuing the mission. “Still, it’s a big area, and a Joestar doesn’t give up easily.” Josephine, it seemed, was undeterred.  
            What’s honestly kind of terrifying is that the longer it goes, the more polite and British Josephine gets. That doesn’t really fit her personality.  
            When their next query earns a running restaurateur, Josephine grins. “Oh, goodie.” It doesn’t take her long to catch up with the guy, and the next thing Buffy knows, he’s being held at least a foot above the ground, legs dangling. While it’s something she would’ve done with Willy, as far as she knows this guy isn’t. “Josephine…”  
            “My boy’s out there, dealing with who knows what, and this ‘gentleman’,” the ironic look couples with the air quotes she makes with her left hand, effortlessly holding the owner up with the other, “…knows something that might help me find him. The witch there isn’t the only one dealing with guilt.”  
            “They don’t look like gangsters to me, Da.” The cook, from the back.  
            “Don’t…” the restaurateur gurgles. He’s ignored by everyone.  
            “We want to help. Well, assuming that you do. Because being helpful is what we do, and…” Willow’s babbling. She’s ignored, too.  
            “We saw him, with another bloke. Not too long ago. The one from the picture, he’s American. The one he was with, well, he helped clear out a gang ages ago. Not that he weren’t a little shady himself, but he means well. Your lad’s in good hands. Now, please, put my Dad down.” It’s reasonable, but Buffy’s seen that look in Josephine’s eyes in a mirror. She wants someone to beat up. She wants someone to blame. She wants to think that it’s all easy and can be fixed just by knocking one person out.  
            The quiet stretches, thick with the promise of violence, and then the man falls.  
            “Please leave,” the man states firmly, acting as if he has perfect dignity despite the scene moments before. They walk out, and it’s clear Willow’s about to say something.  
            There’s a parade or something going on. There’s a lot of people walking, anyway. Somehow Buffy gets separated from the others, and well, it’d be a simple matter to find them, but.  
            And then Buffy feels rather than seeing the vampire watching. It takes off running immediately. “Don’t you guys ever learn?” The scream (a guy, why is it always guys getting cornered by vamps?) lets her know that she can’t just leave this alone. She’s Buffy the Vampire Slayer, She Who Kicks Ass. She’s not about to run while a civilian gets threatened, even if it’s very possibly a trap. Josephine is…whatever she is, and Willow’s a witch. They’ll find her before anything goes horribly wrong, especially if it’s obvious she’s in trouble.  
            She swears and follows. The rescuee has managed to corner himself in an alley. Sometimes Buffy wonders about these people’s common sense. He’s pretty much your average Brit, though, vest and all, so she pulls the stake and concentrates her attention on the vamp trying, now, to eat her face.  
            Until she’s interrupted as she tries to hold the ugly away. “I can help—” the guy starts, and the Slayer can’t help but roll her eyes. What it is with men and their macho prides, anyway?  
            “—by getting out of here,” she finishes, stabbing at the thing’s arm and rolling out of the way. Good, he’s focused on her now. She sees the guy wavering hesitantly around the edge of her vision and bites down a groan. Seriously, worrying about a civilian and trying to fight is a lot more difficult than trying to fight. It’d be one thing if this was a fledge, but most fledges don’t get mystical tattoos.  
            By the time she finishes him off, the potential victim has run off, and Buffy sighs in relief. At least he’s able to take directions, eventually. Now she just has to make it back to the others.


	4. Ominous Clouds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The expected ambush materializes.

            It’s starting to darken, a little, clouds skidding over, and by the looks of things it’s probably going to start raining at some point. The parade-goers are just as excited about the change in weather as she is, seemingly. They’ve started to mutter quietly and draw jackets around themselves. Which, okay, so she wasn’t the happiest about the fact that she hadn’t dressed warmer, either, but there’s the slightest hint of threat on the air, and while most vampires didn’t go out during the day, even with the sky clouded over, that didn’t stop the crazy or old or dangerous or all three of the above, sometimes. Spike was just one example. Plus there’s just something about the air that’s setting her Slayer blood on edge, and it’s a sense that’s kept her alive so far. Not a good idea to start ignoring it now. She’d wondered about that from the very beginning, actually; it seemed far too convenient, too much of a coincidence. It might have caught her by surprise years ago. Now? She had the experience to tell that it was a trap. Maybe not enough to tell her she should stay out of said trap, but even years of a worried Watcher yelling at her wasn’t enough to beat that stubborn streak out of her.

            She wished, not for the first time, that Xander was back, grinning at her and trading dumb reference-slash-puns with her as she whines about real life.

            No matter how much she complains about it, she enjoys it all the same. And when he’d been in Africa, it hadn’t really hit her how much she’d missed him. She makes a promise to herself there and then that she’s going to spend some more time with him, just goofing off like they were teenagers again, once they get him back.

            She notices the sudden attention. The trap had found her. Feels the continued attention, the following steps. She’ll wait for her moment, just as they’re waiting for theirs. She doesn’t want to let on that she knows about the problem just yet.

            The sky goes dark, the clouds larger, less skittish. She begins to bring out her stake, only for the scene to be lit up by a light that breaks behind her, flaring for one split second before it extinguishes all light.

            She had been in the middle of a crowd. Onlookers, those marching in the parade, cars.

            Now the only thing on the streets, besides her, is bodies, some beginning to ooze blood, darkening the concrete. The cars idle as if the owners are only just taking a nap, not slumped over in death.

            _Damn_. Slaypires. She barely has to look around to see a few moving bodies suddenly there—female, eager, inhuman. And then she blinks again upon noticing their faces.

            _Something’s wrong with them, and in more than just the ‘I Was Turned into a Vampire’ way. Is it something about the Mask Turning process that I don’t know? Then again, there’s a ton we don’t know about these things._

_…Willow and Josephine better hurry up._

            Now that she allows herself to look around, there are a few weird things that look like dogs with humans’ heads (female, Slayer, that’s _sick_ ) as well as…well, that thing might be a frog, if frogs were a weird pink color with black, soulless eyes, stood on their hind legs, and didn’t actually have front legs. And perching on that truck, wings curled around the dead couple inside as if lovingly caressing them…

            _It’s a weird giant bat-like thing. I mean, I didn’t even see Dracula pulling something like this._ Then, _they better not ruin my boots, though of course the bright side of the equation is that monster attack is always an acceptable excuse to go shopping. Again._

            It’s hard to make it out through its concealing wings, though she can see what look like spikes pointing out every which way, as well as what looks like a spiky, potentially poisonous tail. It turns to look at her faster than a human could, head at an angle that’s anything but human. “Ahhh, Summers,” it breathes, odd amused, excited note in its voice that gives Buffy the shivers. Seriously, it’d be easier to deal with an angry or threatening monster, particularly one that it’d be easier to fight. She didn’t accessorize with her crossbow, for instance, because it’s kind of hard to conceal and you don’t particularly want to freak out people you’re trying to get information from unless they’re Willy. In which case, beating him is not only socially acceptable, it’s kind of expected. “You promised, didn’t you, Head Slayer? To protect us all? To teach us how to save ourselves from the dark?”

            The thing it’s doing is nothing like laughing, but telling the thing that probably isn’t the solution. “You failed,” it says, and that’s half resentment and half something darker, more intimate, that Buffy wants no part of.

            It hurts, but then, she’s always known. She can’t save them all. This is the real world. She can give them tools to survive, but that’s all. It’s like going into a fight with the First, the source of all evil, and not expecting casualties.

            It still hurts. But then, the thing had been trying to distract her from the Slaypires sneaking up on her, hadn’t it? With unerring years of practice, she slams the stake into the space the heart would be in the dead thing’s chest.

            It, surprisingly for a few seconds, doesn’t die. But the momentum is enough to throw it backwards, which is something, and Buffy’s remembering the fight with the Slaypires last time and Josephine’s offhand comment. Destroy the brain, huh? Easy enough.

            Her next stake up her sleeve goes right through the brain, and this time with a shriek the Slaypire disappears in a cloud of dust like it’s supposed to do. Buffy carefully doesn’t breathe in.

            She turns just in time to see the monster in charge, with a flap of wings strong enough to break the concrete on either side of the car, take to the sky. She’s definitely not looking forward to fighting that, especially without equipment. Where’s Xander with a rocket launcher when you need him?

            She hears the angry, quick footsteps heading in her direction, knows it’s the vampire that she’d knocked away, and turns, stake still in hand, and drives it toward the heart.

            Only to lock eyes with a dying vampire, breathe in dust, and have her wrist caught, firmly and just a touch painfully, in a grip that’s not quite human. Both the green eyes and the male voice are entirely unamused. “Is this how you treat all the people who save your life?”


	5. Taste Everything I Am

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Together Buffy and her green-eyed rescuer take on the Slaypire hordes.

            “N-no,” she stammers, and is shocked to see what looks like a hint of a smile in those green eyes before he turns his attention past her. “Yare yare daze. They just don’t take a hint.”

            It’s see-through, just as Josephine’s was, but now Buffy doesn’t have the excuse of a knock on the head to think she’s imagining things. That really is a green-painted Tarzan warrior that briefly reminds her of a few Mayan pictures and a bunch of other historical gibberish she hadn’t bothered to memorize, long ago. It doesn’t look solid, but it’s solid enough that it manages to punch some of the Slaypires out of the air as they try to pounce an unsuspecting prey.

            The flying monster lets out a scream of rage, and is met with the same treatment, a sound like “Ora” … _isn’t that the Spanish for ‘gold’?_ and a flying flurry of fists. The bat-ray-thing quickly retreats, but the screech is ear-rending. It’s joined by several creepy calls (that sound something like Wryy, but that makes absolutely no sense whatsoever). The Slaypires are still approaching, though, in huge numbers, and the Slayer feels a pang. How in the world did Simone manage to turn all of those Slayer Trainees without anyone noticing?

            Buffy learns that it’s a lot harder to hit and destroy a vampire’s brain than it is to hit the heart. Maybe it’s just practice but—and this is a yucky thought—even with supernatural strength, it feels like the bone is thicker around the brain. The ribs are easier to crack or avoid. In any case, as much as she loves the stake and as much as it’s her friend, it’s not the correct tool for this. And now she’s going to have to scrub out her brain with some industrial strength bleach and hours and hours of scouring, or she might sustain permanent emotional trauma.

            Who is she kidding, she’s had lingering emotional trauma ever since ‘vampire’ became the real threat that stalks the night, rather than just some mugger or something. While she’s at it, though, maybe she should see if she can add a sword to her regular arsenal. Maybe a magically extending one, so it’s easy to fit in her purse like Mr. Pointy.

            She’s gotten pretty good at fight-multitasking, so she ducks on instinct, managing to miss both the swing of a…is that a strangely elongated, wiggly finger? She doesn’t really want to think about it. That, and the elated shout of the Tarzan as it punches the Slaypire hard enough it goes through the wall, barely missing her. She can feel the air move as it goes by.

            It’d also be nice if the sword was pretty as well as practical. Sure, her life probably will never be normal in relation to most people. Most people didn’t spend their teen years to early adulthood fighting monsters, let alone, well, potentially past that. She can at least get weapons that match her outfits.

            She does manage a lucky shot with a spin kick. Her heels crunch a little, which she’s trying to repress, both because it’s icky and because it means she’s probably going to need a new pair—again. The Slaypire dusts. And Giles had told her that she had more important things to worry about than her shoe shopping.

            This new guy isn’t easy to read. For most people, maybe, but Giles doesn’t like to show his emotions, either, unlike these boisterous Americans, and she’s gotten pretty good at reading unexpressive people. She’s _pretty_ sure he didn’t mean her to see the brief look full of pride in his eyes after that Slay before he turns to defend himself from a particularly determined Slaypire with a pipe that looks like it’s been wrenched directly off the wall.

            Usually, Buffy would tease for something like that, but she’s embarrassed even as she’s pleased. _Take that, Hank. No one would want me as their daughter, my foot. I might have two contenders, here._

            Okay, okay, maybe she’s getting a little ahead of herself. But it’s the same look Giles gives her when he’s proud of her but doesn’t want to say anything in a stoic, British way. Because he’s afraid she’ll get a swollen ego or whatever. She’s pretty sure this guy isn’t English, but the same rule applies.

            He’s tall, and the way he’s built, he should be intimidating. Some of the Slaypires, the ones that don’t look like they’re entirely brain-dead, anyway, take a look at the two of them and make a beeline for her. It’d almost be insulting, if it didn’t often work to her advantage.

            Buffy’s usual method of dealing with intimidating is poking it until it gives up or attacks, but that won’t be necessary this time because she’s pretty sure she knows exactly what she’s dealing with.

            She’s still not sure whatever power Josephine had been talking about, but this guy has it too. They’re both ridiculously tall (she allows herself a moment to pout before back-stepping and punching the stupid vampire in her stupid face) and are fairly muscled. The eye colors are different, but the look in them when fighting? That’s pretty similar.

            This guy’s probably another Joestar, just in the nick of time. Which, hey, a horde like this? She’s not complaining. She can use all the help she can get. Still, even with the two of them, they’re starting to get hemmed in, and even Mr. Stoic over there is breathing a little heavier. There’s dust and monster bodies everywhere. The weird flying thing is cackling madly, which is honestly slightly more intimidating than the eerie screeching, and the weird dog and frog monsters are closing in, too. Simone had set her trap well.

            It’s then that they’re joined by more reinforcements. Again, it almost—almost—looks like the Slaypires are flying back all on their own. Except she can see—barely, seethrough, like it’s on another plane, but she can see it all the same—what look like jewels of green energy flying into their foes in a flurry.

            “Took you long enough,” her rescuer calls dryly, hands in pockets as if this is a casual stroll and not a fight for their lives.

            The voice that replies is smooth, almost sophisticated, and not at all apologetic. “I may have known you for a long time, Jojo, but even I can’t read your mind.”

            All this gets in return is an unexpressive grunt.

            It doesn’t take long for them to fall in a rhythm, Buffy almost with her back to this ‘Jojo’ as she and he and his Tarzan make quick work of any of the Slaypires that dare approach. Well, more Buffy hitting them back (so much for proper accessorization) and the Tarzan putting fists _through_ the heads of the vampires and anything else that gets close, leading to a lot of dust and some piling up bodies in a circle around them. Showers of the glittery transparent green jewels take out others further from them, and what looks like tendrils have formed a sort of protective web around them, preventing the seemingly neverending stream from getting too close. The monster (really, it needs a name, but Buffy’s having trouble doing much more than breathe and utter the occasional quip when she finds the breath to do so) is a little too quiet, though, and it’s enough to make a Slayer paranoid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reading Stone Ocean has been a roller coaster. I'm nearly done-just the final fight, basically, to go. Jolyne is amazing and reminds me of Buffy, and I'm not at all unhappy that F.F. shares a Stand band with Xander, who's honored by the association. (I am not, by the way, spoilery for where I'm going maybe, but I am not going to write that Buffy turns out to be Jolyne and Xander's long-lost sister or something. That being said, I would love to see that fic, so if you want to, have a go!) I am slightly less impressed with the ROADROLLAPLOT, so it's never going to be my favorite part.  
> Still...DIAMOND IS UNBREAKABLE IS COMING! GET A FEELING SO COMPLICATED PEOPLE, THE HYPE IS REAL!  
> ...probably going to get more and more excited about this as it gets closer.  
> ~Dreamer~


	6. Which She Which She Never Was

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The former Slayer has had enough and escalates the fight.

            The thing’s silent as it swoops, dark and swift like a bird of prey despite its massive size. Somehow it avoids the green strands as it claws through Buffy’s arm bandage, knocking her on her back. Instantly she’s covered in a suffocating beast, both physically and with smell. However human this Slayer might have been, she is no longer. Buffy fights through the haze of pain.

            There’s a roar of anger, and something else heavy barrels into the monster on her. The weight largely lifts, but there’s also a grunt of pain that is, well, very concerning. Buffy glances up only to see the stingray-like tail stuck in the man’s torso, reddish liquid seeping out from the sides. The eyes are pained but still strangely clear, and with effort the Tarzan appears again with a whispered, “Star Platinum,” and begins hitting at the tail. It’s definitely not as strong as before.

            The yelled incantation Buffy recognizes. Well, not the incantation so much, as magic isn’t her thing. It’s Willow’s voice, though, and suddenly the monster is being slammed back and then held stationary in the air, just like the man (who looks ready to collapse. The green eyes are a little pained and maybe even panicked, as the man tries to lift his hand and can’t, but Buffy shakes her head.

            The eyes widen slightly as the wound starts healing seemingly all of its own, but the Slayer heard the second spell and knows its source. It’s only when the spell finishes that both the man and the monster are let go, and it falls with a loud crash.

            There’s a loud whoop, and Buffy instantly recognizes it. It’s Josephine. “Wow, cous! I knew you’d bring a party!”

            She glances over to see that the Joestar standing alongside a distressed Willow, and somehow manages a smile and a thumbs-up. Despite her words, Josephine looks relieved that the guy who’d just been impaled was moving again.

            “I thought I told you to stop calling me that,” her rescuer mutters under his breath. Somehow Josephine hears him, or, more realistically, it’s an argument they’ve had for forever. “Well, it’s the correct term. You’re just mad that you’re Dad’s nephew, aren’t you?” It’s teasing. Buffy remembers doing the same to Dawn, or, more often, the other way around. Still, these two look about the same age, but then, nobody’d properly explained the ‘I’m actually forty years old’ thing yet, so maybe there was a big age difference, after all.

            The man only pulls a hat lower over his eyes. “Yare yare.” He ignores the stain on the front of his shirt, though the man with…bright pink hair over there looks a little concerned.

            “How are we going to beat this monster?”

            With lumbering, painful movements, the monster rises and flaps into the air, the awful sound of creaking bones and ripping flesh filling the air. It’s hurt, yes, but it’s impossible to guess how much longer it’ll last without collapsing, and, well, if it’s a fight of endurance and it can beat them they had better change those circumstances quick.

            “Usually, Giles is the one that researches a new Big Bad so we know how to beat it up. It's pretty fast for a really, really heavy thing, though, and I don’t think it’ll let us get away fast enough to come back later when we’re actually ready to fight it.” To her annoyance, she’s still a little breathless. Going by Slayer healing, she was just about ready to take the sling off, and then the giant bat thing had to go and mess it up again. She just can’t catch a break.

            This time, she’s not the only one to catch the small glimpse of pride in the man’s eyes, and the guy with the pink hair (that _has_ to be a dye job…doesn’t it?) gives the rescuer with a hat an odd look.

            Josephine stretches, unconcerned, easily standing in a position that has to hurt. Well. Buffy assumes that the body isn’t actually supposed to work like that. It looks like it would hurt, and even if Josephine is as strong as a Slayer is if not more so, it still looks painful. “You guys remember the extraction of Mercia, in Russia?”

            “Of course,” the pink-haired guy breathes out quietly, a smile appearing on his face that does not bode well for the thing they’re facing. Buffy hopes. “My Stand is particularly suited to that purpose.” He turns to She Who Slays the Vampires, who’s currently confused, and explains, “A Stand is the power I used. I assume you’ll awaken to yours shortly.”

            (Nobody had mentioned anything about that, but then again, no one had mentioned that ages and ages ago a cabal of powerful men stuffed the power of a demon into the soul of a girl, forced that part to be reborn and reborn again, and left the fate of scared girls who had no idea that one day their entire world would completely be turned on its head in the hands of yet another jerkish cabal of powerful men. Somehow, the important facts of life often went unsaid. Buffy would raise some kind of picket march but since that sort of protest was yet another fact of life, it probably should remain unsaid, too.) The sudden, slight frown on the taller man’s face tells her that something is wrong with the explanation, but Mr. Green-Eyed Stoic doesn’t seem the type to talk much, so he doesn’t.

            “In any case, I don’t believe we can count on reinforcements from the Foundation, especially as a certain someone got bored waiting in the hotel room for another call and decided that taking a stroll in dangerous areas was a good idea.”

            “Yare yare daze,” was the man’s only response.

            “My Stand is particularly suited to ranged combat, especially when trying to follow through with Josephine’s plan. I will be vulnerable during this time, so it would be useful if the three of you would help defend me. Jotaro I know, but I’m afraid I didn’t catch the names of you ladies.” There’s a glare from Jotaro, but it’s hard to tell whether that’s a fairly normal state of things or whether it’s new.

            Willow’s still trembling a little, which Buffy’s going to have to address before they can pull this off. In the meantime, though, it would be rude to leave the man hanging, flirtatious though he might be. “I’m Buffy, the Vampire Slayer. That’s Willow.”

            “H-hi. I don’t have a really cool sounding title,” Willow mumbles, and brightens up slightly. “That doesn’t mean Andrew and I aren’t working on one. I’m a witch.” The way she says that, there’s no fear or doubt, which Buffy can say from experience is a good one. Fearing your powers isn’t any better than getting arrogant with them.

            “I can say I’ve never met a witch or a vampire slayer before,” the man states with a smile. “I’m Kakyoin. Now, shall we?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The name of the chapter is from song lyrics that Xander!Muse refuses to hear correctly, but then, he also changed the line 'mirroring your stare' to 'mirroring your Stand'. Nearly done with the fight, people. And Josephine seems to be plotting something...hmmm....  
> Also, yep, now you know where Josephine fits in the family tree (and by extension, Xander).  
> ~Dreamer~


	7. Bump in the Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Josephine comes up with a plan to fight back.

            Fortunately, the rescuer dressed in green seems to be okay with keeping the bat-manta-thing occupied for a bit, sending the green glowy things at it every now and again when it seems to be getting too close.

            “Wait,” Buffy states quickly and makes it over to her friend. “Are you okay? I know you haven’t used your magic in…a while, right?”

            Willow looks like she’s trying to nod and shake her head at the same time. “I’m—I’m okay. Really I am. I mean, I feel like I’m about to go into ‘hyperventilate and babble caffeine mode’ which is interesting since it hasn’t really been a thing since the Caffeine Ban of 1996, but otherwise I’m okay. It’s…I mean, the witches in Devon were really helpful, and then, ever since…activating the Slayer line, I’ve been kind of, um, connected to all of you, which is serving as some kind of grounding force? I think? It’s kind of awkward with Kennedy, and all, but…”

            “What about your girlfriend?” Buffy asks, blinking.

            “Gossip later,” Jotaro growls. He definitely doesn’t look proud now, but then, dads don’t all the time, do they? Buffy thinks about asking, but that means that she’d have to say that he’s been conscripted as a surrogate dad, and, okay, yeah, maybe it’s not that simple. That would scare away a lot of people, right?

            “A general has to make sure the morale of the troops is high,” Buffy states calmly. Yeah, they have to speed this up, but it’s important. “Or something,” she adds, suddenly sounding a lot younger. “Speaking of which, Ken. Spill.”

            “We had a fight. Which is really awkward, especially with the ‘through the power of magic I’m now connected to every Slayer in the world’ but I can deal. Have to, really, because I’m not about to let anyone die when I can help it.” The shy, uncertain but honest smile is completely Willow, though, and Buffy feels her fears easing. Slightly. “You were out for a while. It was this whole thing. He’s right, it can wait, after which we’ll talk. But I can say for sure that, if you were any indication, making vampires stop existing is pretty good therapy.”

            Buffy laughs. “Well, if you’re sure you’re with the dealing, then I don’t have to tell you that the secret to keeping my sanity all these years is a good, steady diet of violence against vampires, which is distinct from vampire violence. Or vampire violins.”

            There’s another huff of a breath, but Willows grinning at her, and it’s completely worth it. “We’re ready for Operation Josephine,” Buffy states, and salutes.

            Pink-hair….Right, Kakyoin (Japanese names are weird, Buffy thinks for a moment before taking her place next to him) on the other hand looks amused. He nods. “Go, Josephine.”

            Xander’s mom grins before running off like she’s the Flash, and the green emeralds begin flying through the air seemingly at random, but by the hearing-ruining screech, it’s making the creature’s flight path difficult. “Kill them!” it screams, and the horde begins focusing on them again, rather than on Josephine, which is probably part of the plan of Operation Josephine. Willow’s whispering spells under her breath, eyes glowing slightly with every spell (which should probably worry Buffy, but Willow shows no signs of becoming Bitchy Willow, so she’s reserving judgement for now). Buffy, herself, has managed to get ahold of the pipe from before, now a thousand and two percent dustier, and is using it to keep all comers away from Kakyoin. It’s creepily useful against the weird frog things, pretty much popping them if she applies enough force, and she’s getting the gunk on her clothes. These, she thinks, resigned with a Slayer’s knowledge of the many kinds of icky things that monsters produce, are getting burnt when they get back. Her stoic rescuer seems a little worse for the wear, gingerly moving with his injured side and now not quite so likely to punch vampires in the face with his own fists but instead leaving the task to his Stand (that’s a silly name, but then again, if some relative of Xander’s had come up with it, Buffy understands it completely). Kakyoin has taken up a pose of his own, eyes narrowed in concentration. The weird Stand-thing he summons Buffy can see moving around just slightly over their heads. It’s noodly, stretching out like a cross between Mr. Fantastic, some genie from a lamp, and a snake-charmer’s snake, with a complexion that looks like a cross between a melon and some sort of steel or plastic structure. Basically, it’s weird. The Tarzan, wearing pretty much just the loincloth, is tame in comparison. (Buffy’s not minding the view, though she suspects people’s powers are out of the picture and she’s not about to start dating someone she’s had daughterly thoughts about.)

            The former Slayer is getting more and more frustrated, even spearing some of her former comrades in her anger, waving around the giant, deadly tail as she tries to find a safe spot to land. A few stray shots hit, spraying blood as the emerald buries itself in the hide and the bleeding monster shrieks.

            And then Josephine calls. “Yo, ugly! What’s wrong, can’t kill a few _weak humans_?”

            Definitely related to Xander. The more and more she speaks, the more Buffy starts to see the resemblance.

            It lets out an enraged roar, no longer capable of the witty banter, too insightful to not bite, turning more into the animal it resembles. It dives toward with the Joestar with the sudden speed that had taken Buffy by surprise, but this time, they’re prepared. Willow calls out the spell to catch the monster in midair, and Kakyoin gets a good amount of hits in. It’s definitely not looking very fight-worthy by this point.

            Now, if they can only hold it…

            “Okay, Uncle Kakyoin, you can let go now!” Josephine shouts. Willow wavers for a few seconds before doing as the woman shouts.

_But if it gets any closer to Ms. Joestar, Kakyoin can’t hit it without fear of hitting his…niece? Of course, Willow could probably heal that, but no magic is without consequence, and she’s already a bit shaky. It’s probably not good to rely on that. What in the world are they planning?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Continuing the 'Xander Mishears Lyrics' thing, though this time it's less of a 'Xander's mishearing it again' and more 'he thinks it's funny'. Xander!muse likes to replace 'baby' with 'Buffy' and 'Willow'.  
> ~Dreamer~


	8. Operation Josephine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Josephine puts her plan into effect.

            Josephine’s running for a huge pair of iron, ancient gates.  “Bye Bye Beautiful!” she calls out, and they swing open in front of her with a judicious punch from the fay-looking green-skinned woman.  Stand.  It’s a Stand, not some fairy thing that might or might not be friendly and that Buffy may or may not have to Slay.  It’s Josephine’s power, so it’s friendly.  To her, anyway.

            The enraged, bleeding monster is catching up and swoops, so Josephine has to dive like a baseball player sliding home.  Buffy’s warning dies in her throat as _something_ happens.

            A portal appears, barely large enough for the monster to fit through, but just big enough.  It’s green and it’s yellow and it looks like electricity, but other than that it’s far too familiar and Buffy feels herself becoming a little dizzy.  Jotaro reaches out a giant’s hand to steady her with a concerned look, and the Slayer concentrates on taking deep breaths.  She nods at him.

            The monster seems to sense danger, but it’s too late.  Its own speed has worked against it.  The tips of the wings flap once, trying to pull it out of the portal, but with a slurping sound it’s pulled within, deadly tail and all.  Buffy shivers.

            “That’ll have done it,” Kakyoin states with satisfaction, and Willow shakes her head, trembling again.

            The opaqueness of the portal wipes clear, and Buffy blinks.  She can see Josephine, running full out at them with a manic grin on her face, and behind her—

            It’s dazed, confused, but in a few seconds it struggles into the air with a few flaps and begins swooping after.  If it catches up—if it can get out….

            There are shapes lurking in the edges.  It’s like a zoo, with all the monsters peeking out from between the bars, and she feels sick just looking at them.  Like they don’t quite exist in this world, but are just visible enough to give her a headache and make her nauseous.  And probably real and hungry enough to destroy or devour the world.  That’s another danger.  _Josephine_ willingly _keeps opening up portals to these places?  She really_ is _as mad as she appears.  I mean, I didn’t really get to spend time in a demon dimension like everyone thought, which, okay, yeah, no loss there, but.  I wouldn’t want to willingly go there, let alone potentially let anything out._

            A looming giant stands beside her, a comforting presence, and she takes what comfort she can.  _Would this guy be so calm if they could get out?  Then again, he seems like he’s generally calm.  It’s kind of cool, actually._ They can’t get there fast enough to make a difference.  Kakyoin can’t make a move without hitting Josephine as well, and the rest of them are too far away.  This is all up to Xander’s mom.  _Speaking of which_ , Buffy thinks, willing her faster, _if you die before you can talk to Xander and apologize and before he can get to know you and foist Babylon 5 and his terrible jokes and Hawaiian shirts and everything else off on you, I’m never forgiving you._   Even so, she hates it.  Standing on the sidelines, watching the action happen, maybe someone get killed or the world ended and she can’t do anything.

            Well.  Maybe they’re not out of Willow’s range.  Who’s already tensing at her side, mumbling under her breath, preparing a spell, just in case.  It’s a good reminder.  They’re the Scoobies.  So far, there’s nothing they haven’t managed to do together.  Even if she, as the Slayer, can’t act, she’s hardly the only one here.  She has to trust that Josephine knows what she’s doing, that even if Josephine messes up, Willow can save the day.

            It nearly makes it out.  The other things, nightmarish things that the Slayer really, really wants to never see again, have started to climb over the sides, and if she’s not mistaken that’s anticipation.  What if the former Slayer makes it out?  What if the monsters do?  It’d be just their luck if they took care of the original baddie only by letting out a worse one.  Buffy only lets out the breath she realizes she’s been holding when the portal closes with an elaborate gesture from B3 just a second before it reaches the exit.  Many of the remaining dog and frog things and the non-dusty vampires that haven’t already fled at the sight of the portal take one look at them and run.  It’s a bit of a shock that none of them tried something while they were all standing gaping at Bye Bye Beautiful’s portal, but dying doesn’t seem to have done wonders for their intelligence. 

            It’s quick enough work cleaning up the rest, Kakyoin sending out wave upon wave of those green emerald things (“Emerald Splash,” she hears him call it) along with general area spells that Willow calls up, while Buffy and Jotaro concentrate on dealing with the ones that are hiding out of sight or range.  Josephine, clearly running on adrenaline, makes it all the way to them before leaning over, still grinning.  “That was an adventure, wasn’t it?  Whooo!”

            Kakyoin shakes his head with a smile, fluffing her hair like an indulgent uncle.  Actually, given the dynamic between the newcomers, that probably wasn’t much of a stretch.  He was the unrelated but-friends-with-family-so-I’m-your-uncle uncle.  She sticks out her tongue, grinning, and takes another step for her Stand to punch through yet another Slaypire, who’d decided sneaking up on them was a bright idea.

            The Slayer sighs suddenly.  It’s not really that much of a secret base if she keeps leading people there, but they _are_ allies, which they’re sorely lacking.  And it’s another day, another big fight, another Big Bad.  They’d been given enough breathing room to build up the New Slayer’s and Watcher’s Council before it all broke to pieces.  The calm between storms.

            They can’t afford to be picky now.  Careful, yes.  But so far, Josephine’s proven herself, and Buffy’s Slayer senses are telling her these two are to be trusted, too.

            “You two are gonna _love_ their HQ,” Josephine’s telling the two newcomers, practically skipping along.  “I mean, it’s not their old one.  Which was even more brilliant, but it kind of got set on fire and invaded and stuff, so it’s not a safe base anymore.  But they still have the best food, including a warlock who’s _really_ , _really_ good at cooking, and given that I can’t, I was thinking maybe I could kidnap him for a while?  I promise to take good care of him, so…pretty please?”

            “No,” Jotaro states shortly, just as Buffy adds, “He’s our hostage.  Get your own,” and grins.


	9. The Colour and the Shape

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Buffy's used to Slayer dreams, but this seems a little different.

            Buffy opens her eyes.  It’s not somewhere she’s been; fine, that’s pretty common in her dreams.  It feels kind of like a Slayer dream, so very little would surprise her.  The fact that she’s not wearing any of her fabulous shoes and is even, gasp, barefoot is a little strange, but then, that fits the setting.  Kinda.  It’s one of those typical Japanese houses, and she’s standing on one of those mats.  There’s a bloodstained bandage lying next to what looks like a very wimpy sleeping bag, and that makes her just a little bit wary.  She opens one of the wooden doors after figuring out it’s a sliding door, and that’s weird, but whatever.  It’s pretty quiet, which is an architectural touch she can appreciate.  A pond sits calmly ringed by some rocks and some trees just beyond, and…

            Okay, maybe the guy sitting staring moodily into the pond with a plaid pattern that she recognizes would surprise her a little.  Soundlessly, she pads over and sits next to him.

            And he flips out.  “Jeez!”  Then he really gets a look at her with an eye, the non-eyepatch eye, and asks wonderingly, “Buff?”

            “Xander.  Why are you hanging out in my dreams?”  She teases him a little, because Xander…well, will always be Xander.

            He blinks, reddening a little.  “I’m pretty sure this is my dream, actually, although…”  He’s barefooted, too, and swings his legs over the side, just skimming the water slightly.  The ripples pass outward, echoing, growing bigger, and it’s kind of mesmerizing for them both.  He almost forgets he’s answering a question, right now, and she that she’d asked one.  “…You know, no one else has ever been here.  Except for the cheese man.”

            She’s about to respond to that—he’s gotten cryptic comments from the cheese man too?—when she sees red skin somewhere on the other side of the pond and instantly reacts, drawing a stake that she probably shouldn’t have in her dreams.

            A hand lifts up to stop her.  “He’s…well, it’s complicated, but he’s a friend.”

            She lowers the stake, but she’s still on edge.  It occurs to her that this might not actually be her Xander.  Before she can come up with a good question for him to prove his identity—and, okay, what would that even entail, some things could just be looked up or read using some kind of supernatural mumbo jumbo or something—he suddenly looks at her with urgency and fear.  “Is everybody okay?”

            That concern, compassion.  That’s almost certainly genuine, but it’s hard to be completely sure.  “Slayers have died,” she says bluntly, because there’s really no better way to tell someone the truth, and his reaction would be telling.

            He swears and hits the wooden walkway hard enough to make her wince.  She doesn’t think she recognizes the word, but it’s entirely possible that it’s something he picked up from his extensive television adventures or in Africa.  “How?”  He fiddles with his eyepatch, a nervous habit he’d picked up after Caleb that she’s not even sure he’s conscious of.

            She nods.  “Apparently the stone mask—”

            “—makes vampires of a new and sparkly kind.”  The face Xander makes as he finishes her statement is one of someone who’s just found a piece of particularly nasty debris in his food at a fancy restaurant and is weighing just spitting it out and getting thrown out or swallowing and continuing to stay on the good list.  “Forget I said that; it was lame and I should never say such things ever again.  I still maintain those aren’t vampires.  They’re fairies with the insidious power of killing people with laughter.  And I still deny knowing anything about the burning of Dawn’s book.  Book-burning is usually of the bad, but in some cases it’s registering a justified complaint.  Not that, um, I know anything about it.  Because I don’t.”  The babbling is characteristically her friend, and yeah, okay, so him knowing about something that didn’t really actually happen with Dawn was a good sign.  “I saw the stuff on the news, and—Buffy—”

            “The Scoobies survived.”  She smiles.  “And I’m totally okay with stopping of the growth of more Fords, because really, I need that to never, ever happen again.”

            He relaxes.  Mostly.  His eyes are moist with something he’d probably deny if pressed as he stares into the water again.  “I’m going to guess that not all of my girls made it, though.”

            It hurts to tell him this, but she’s not about to lie to him, even if he’s a not entirely proven Xander.  She shakes her head, sadly.  It’s a good thing she’s sitting to his right so he can actually see her answer with his peripheral vision.  His hands clench, and if she’s not mistaken his teeth do too.  Still, with determination in his eye, he returns his breathing to normal.

            “I’ve met Josephine,” she states bluntly, and the surprise and joy on his face couldn’t be faked.

            “Right—so, then, did she tell you the stuff about Stands, or—well, she is a little paranoid at times, she might not…”  He’s in babble mode, suddenly, and it rushes over her like a waterfall.  She missed this and didn’t even realize it.

            “How do you know what she’s like?” she asks.  It’s a little weird, him knowing.

            He smiles.  It’s a little sad, but it’s more confident than she can remember seeing from him.  There’s a power there that wasn’t before.  “It has to do with my Stand, actually.”  He hesitates, then continues, “Buffster, do you think maybe you’ve got room for one more in the ‘powers of destiny’ clubhouse?  ‘Cause I don’t think I fit the definition of Joe Normal anymore.”

            It feels good to talk to someone who understands.  It would’ve been nice if it’d happened before, actually.  All those times she felt so alone when there were people all around her.  Maybe that’s what Cordy had been talking about, all those years ago.  “I’ll make us badges.  You can be vice president.”

            It’s when he laughs, though, that it’s truly weird.  Not because that’s not his laugh.  It is.  It just reminds her that it’s been a while since any of them have laughed that freely.  Carefree.

            He leans toward her and engulfs her in a hug.  He wasn’t this strong before, she remembers, and suddenly she can hug back with all her strength and not worry that she’s going to crush him.  Actually, she realizes shortly as she gasps with the pain, it’s her that’s going to get hurt.  Stupid sling.

            Instantly he pulls back with concern, giving her a stern look that kind of reminds her of Giles, and then holds out his hands over her arm.  She asks what he’s doing, but calmly he ignores her, closing his eye and slowing down his breath.  He breathes out, and suddenly there’s a glow, a healing warmth like the power of the sun.  She blinks, and it’s over.

            He pulls away with a fond, nostalgic look.  “Tell Mom that Mercia’s son is actually with me.  He kind of kidnapped me because he thought I was in danger, but he’s actually a good friend.  You know, apart from his tendency to overreact to things.”  He smiles and ruffles her hair.  “Take care, Buff.  If you die while I’m gone, I’ll kill you myself.”

            She opens her mouth, ready to respond to that, probably with something along the lines of “Well, hurry up then” or something along those lines, and wakes up instead.


	10. Catch Your Breath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Buffy wakes up and goes searching for coffee, breakfast, and friends, new and old. In that order.

            Buffy wakes and for a moment thinks it’s just a dream before she remembers the red-skinned figure in the garden.  She only caught a glimpse, but that definitely could have been a Stand.  “Good for you, Xander,” she mutters to herself and gets up.  She doesn’t bother to look for clothes.  All of hers are sitting in boxes somewhere, the likes of which she’d been complaining not weeks ago about moving around.  Nothing’s organized, though some of the Senior Slayers are trying their hardest.  They’d salvaged what they could, but they couldn’t linger around the mansion in case there was a trap of some sort lying in wait.

            She’s yawning by the time she makes it into the kitchen.  It’s not really _that_ early, but they had gotten in pretty late, and by those standards anytime before _noon_ is early.  The kitchen’s big, but it’s not as big as the old one in the mansion, and she misses that.  And having several kitchens.  And not feeling like she has to send out a Slayer to do the shopping every five minutes, or worrying about any enemies tracing where all the supplies to feed an army are going.

            Andrew, it seems, has been pressed into making breakfast for the lot of them.  She somehow doesn’t think that standing just staring at the food is a cooking technique, unless you happen to have laser vision or something.  “I figured out what this place was used for.”  He’s making a face at the eggs and salmon and deliberately not looking up.  “It’s not pretty.”

            “What?” Dawn asks, bouncing in and stealing a steaming mug of coffee from the row next to the oven.

            “I’m pretty sure the stuff on the knives was human blood.  Did a spell and everything.”  The former warlock’s still looking disgusted, and with good reason.

            Buffy’s face twists into a matching expression.  “Ewww.”

            “Yes, this was the place that they had previously used for their wetworks teams, but I was, er…rather hoping that could go unmentioned, for the sake of overall sanity,” Giles adds from somewhere around the doorway, and Buffy can’t help the snort when she turns to look at her Watcher.  It’s obvious he’s just gotten up, as his hair is all skewy and he hasn’t bothered to get dressed in tweed yet.  (It’s a bit of a surprise his sleeping clothes aren’t also tweed.  Okay, that’s really sort of more of a teasing point than a reality, but it’s still really weird to see him like this, even after the whole year of the war with the First.)  He’s still hobbling determinedly.

            “Well, I _did_ do a cleansing spell on it with one of the witches’ help earlier, so hopefully no vengeful ghosts will pop out demanding vengeance,” Andrew forces cheerfully, and Buffy smiles.

            “Yeah, _anything_ interrupting one of your breakfasts would be sacrilege.  We have to put that in the rulebook somewhere, along with no stealing hot water from Slayers.”  She’s definitely feeling a little more like herself, especially as Andrew goes all red and quiet.  She looks around, now that talk of death and dismemberment has forced her into ‘I’m awake and ready for a fight’ mode, and notes that Jotaro, Kakyoin, and Josephine are all sitting at one of the tables crammed in a corner.  Kakyoin and Josephine look relatively cheerful; Jotaro does not.  Maybe he’s not a morning person.  Or maybe he’s just not happy about the small amount of space between tables, seeing as he’s not exactly one of the youngest Slayers and he appears cramped.  She gets an image of all the Slayers strongarming as many tables as they could fit into the area beyond the kitchen and snorts.

            “Forget I asked,” her sister exclaims, and dumps what looks like half the sugar container into her coffee.

            “Dawn, no.  I do _not_ wanna have to deal with a hyper you all day.  Get a new one.”  She’s getting pretty good at the stern older sister tone, honestly.

            In the best impression of a younger sister, Dawn begins whining in her most annoying voice, until a grumpy Jotaro glares in her direction.  She sticks out her tongue and dumps her cup down the drain in the most theatrical way she can manage.  Luckily, she manages not to burn anyone.

            Buffy reaches out for a cup of her own.  (It’s the joke one Spike gave her, years ago, the one saying ‘mornings bite’.  He probably stole it, but it’s the thought that counts.)  It’s somewhat of a surprise that that was one of the things the Slayers had grabbed on their way out, or in a few careful raids for supplies later on.  A hand on her arm stops her, though.

            “Buffy, wasn’t your arm…”  She glances up to see concerned eyes behind the glasses.

            It takes her a minute to realize what’s wrong.  She really _does_ need that caffeine.  “Oh, yeah.  Um.  Xander healed it in my dream, and when I woke up, it was fine.  I mean, still sore, but I don’t need the sling anymore.”

            Suddenly, Josephine is right behind her, and it takes every nerve to stop her from flailing and screaming in an annoying high-pitched tone.  Buffy can’t tell if Josephine’s used her power again or just vaulted over the island in the middle of the kitchen.  “You heard from Xander?”

            Everyone is staring at her, even Andrew, who’s somehow forgotten that he’s cooking, and the food is burning.  She reaches over and turns off the stove, and Andrew blushes a little.

            “Yeah.”  It sounds a little crazy, but they’ve all seen way more strangeness.  “I think it has something to do with his Stand.  He’s still himself, just…stronger, I guess?”  It’s difficult to put into words how Xander-y he’d been, and yet, still a version she hadn’t known.  “I didn’t really see much of it, but it was pretty much the same kind of weird as the Tarzan and the Fairy Queen, so I’m pretty sure it was his Stand.  And it was definitely…I mean, he definitely _felt_ like Xander, and my Slayer senses weren’t tingling, so.”

            “We can’t be too careful, though.  We can’t afford to make any mistakes about this,” Giles states quietly, frowning at his cup of tea.

            “Actually, you can.  Did you forget the last time you were too careful?” Dawn asks, glaring with her most ferocious glare, and it’s enough to shut up the Watcher.

            That reminds Buffy, she _was_ given a message to pass along, and it might help serve as proof of identity.  “Oh, yeah, he said something about hanging out with ‘Mercia’s son’?”

            Giles begins one of his standard lectures, thoughtfully stirring the tea.  “Mercia _was_ one of the various Anglo-Saxon kingdoms in England before unification.  It could be a possible clue to his whereabouts—”

            Josephine grabs her arms in a grip so tight it’s uncomfortable for even a Slayer.  “Did you say _Mercia?_   Is she okay?”  The urgency in her voice catches Buffy off guard.

            “Um.  He didn’t say anything about Mercia herself, just her son?”  Someday, hopefully soon, Josephine will actually let them in on the loop, since it’s probably important for what’s coming.

            Josephine slumps a little, grip on Buffy suddenly limp, and alarmingly looks like she’s going to cry.

            “Josephine.”  It’s Jotaro, looking slightly less grumpy than before.  Maybe even a little startled, but his deep voice is comforting.  “Mercia knows how to handle herself.  The last time I saw the kid was when he was about three, but I’m sure no Speedwagon grew up to be a pushover.  And she said your kid’s got a Stand too, so quit worrying.  They’ll all be fine.  We’ll find them, and they’ll be fine.”

 _He looks uncomfortable saying her kid…so did he even_ know _that she had one?  That probably has to do with the spell thing she talked about at the beginning._

            She takes a deep breath and nods, slightly squashed smile appearing on her face.  “Story time, I guess,” she says, looking at all of them, then, more brightly, “But breakfast first!”

            Buffy laughs, and even Giles chuckles.  The tension breaks, and Andrew begins plating up what he calls food (and what Josephine’s busy exclaiming, full mouth and all, is “delicious manna from heaven”).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT'S HERE  
> ...but I have to wait a week to see it because I'm Crunchyroll scum not Crunchyroll premium. BUT THAT MEANS I ONLY HAVE TO WAIT A WEEK AND THEN IT'S JOJO FRIDAYS AGAIN OH MAN I MISSED THEM.  
> Are we taking bets on how long before Duwang subs, yet? I'm guessing a week, tops, if they're not already on youtube or someplace.  
> ~Dreamer~


	11. Omake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Jotaro ran out of the hotel, he left a few of the party out of the loop.

            The room is filled with smoke.  The shorter occupant coughs a little, but his protests haven’t done anything so far.  
            “What’s taking him so long?”  A sigh, and then a pistol appears in the man’s hand.  He twirls it absent-mindedly.  “That’s just like a Joestar.  ‘I’m just going out for a stroll’ means ‘I’m going to get attacked and need rescuing’.  Damn it.”  
           “I’m sure it’s okay, Mister Hol Horse!  Mister Jotaro’s pretty strong!”  _Why do I always let myself get dragged into these things when they might be dangerous?  Being around Jotaro-san’s always dangerous.  And yet…I can’t just sit and watch, no matter how scared I am.  
            _ The man grimaces and flicks the cigarette into an ash tray.  “I thought I told you, stop calling me ‘Mister’.  And Jotaro’s not the only strong one in the world, you know.”  The cowboy takes a deep breath, _Emperor_ disappearing from his hands.  “But he did take out DIO, so he _is_ plenty strong.  I just don’t like waiting around for my enemies to come jump me.  I prefer to be the one ambushing the enemy.”  
            Koichi’s about to respond, but all thought flies out of his head.  There’s sudden and unexpected movement from under the bed, and they both scream, jumping up and running in one smooth motion like they’ve practiced it.  Something grabs them and drags them back kicking and screaming.  
            “Missed me?”  It’s…  
            It’s Yukako.  They’re not about to die.  
           “Of course, but weren’t you supposed to stay at the headquarters?”  Heading into a different dimension was dangerous, but everyone liked Josephine and Mercia, so them going missing had pretty much pulled everyone to battle stations, even Rihan and Sakura.  They’d mostly just signed up as backup (well, Hol Horse was probably wanting a kiss or something as thanks, other than the hours-long rant about treating women right and not kidnapping them into other dimensions), but that didn’t mean that he wanted Yukako in danger.  
            “I know we talked about it, but I didn’t want to think about you being in danger without me there to help.”  The door starts to open, and Yukako’s eyes become glittery daggers.  
            “DON’T KILL HER, THAT’S THE MAID!” Koichi yells as the maid takes one look at Yukako’s expression and makes a run for it, leaving the door open.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man oh man, am I super excited! DiU looks to be a blast so far, though there was definitely stuff added that wasn't in the manga (including foreshadowing which was super cool). They definitely didn't graphically detail Angelo's crimes like they did in the manga, which is a little surprising. Josuke's right on.  
> Of note about this chapter: no, Rihan is not a misspelling of Rohan. She's a SPWF Stand User. We'll see her (and Sakura) later.  
> Unfortunately, I've got a huge project due next week (plus I'm suddenly in Japanese school somehow and am required to get to school at 8 tomorrow morning for...yet another project. Lucky me). I'll try at the very least to get out a shorter chapter like this one, but if not, please understand! Arigatou!  
> ~Dreamer~


	12. Deep Waters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's story time for Josephine, and it's not a pleasant tale.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter is JOJO'S DARK. It doesn't exactly go into detail but there is an abusive character, so, read at your own discretion.  
> ~Dreamer~

            “So,” Josephine states quietly, drawing every eye in the room to her, “I guess it’s time.” She sighs. “I’m not much of one for speeches, or for storytelling. I like to kick butt first and ask questions later if not never. Mercia…” she laughs. “Mercia would have all the questions. She’d do her best to befriend all of you, and she’d probably do it in just a few minutes. She was social studies.”  
            Willow wanders in, rubbing at her eyes, and Buffy’s awake enough now to grab her a mug of tea and what little is left of Andrew’s food. The witch wanders over to the table and sits next to Kakyoin, still looking half-dead.  
            “Anyway, she was my bestest of best friends. I hated her at first, thought she’d been sent as some sort of babysitter because Daddy couldn’t trust me to my own devices, going to college in England.”  
            Jotaro snorts, but doesn’t actually comment. Xander’s mom doesn’t seem to notice. “Never mind that the Speedwagon Foundation was there, that I could go to them easily enough if I needed any help, no, he had to have someone watch my every move.”  
            She stares down at her hands, black eyes looking a little haunted. “So, I pushed her. I tried my best to get her to admit that she wasn’t actually my friend, that she didn’t care about me, that it was just a job. And all I did was hurt her. She still cared.”  
            Kakyoin frowns, like he hasn’t heard this before. Kujo looks…well, not indifferent. His expression is a little off. But he definitely doesn’t look surprised, or disappointed. Just calmly…something.  
            “She’d go on and on about destiny and about how amazing the Joestar family was, and at first it was just hero worship. She had trouble figuring out where I began and my family ended. But I realized as she spent time around me, she cared about me, too. More than just some name.”  
            She laughs sadly. “You know, I wouldn’t be surprised if she brought her son up with the same awe. Xander’s probably got a battle, trying to live up to the legacy.”  
            They all jump at the breaking cup, but Jotaro doesn’t look at all apologetic, his Stand cleaning up the mess quickly as he sits like he’s carved of stone. It doesn’t look like he’s actually going to say anything, though, so Josephine continues.  
            “We ended up as friends. But then she ended up meeting him. Gordon Sarde. She said nothing changed, but she was so distant, we never spent time together anymore, and I didn’t trust him. There was just something about him…And then we went, one summer, on this…it was supposed to be just some safe little journey. Just something fun. Russian history, one of those core classes out of the way.”  
            She bites her lip and looks like she’s in pain, but forges ahead anyway. “But then, there was a man with an Arrow, a man with glasses. I tried to protect them, but…but Mercia, like an idiot, jumped in front. She could’ve died, but she wanted to protect me anyway. I was the one with a Stand. And then he got hurt, too, and I tried going after the one who had hurt them, but I…” She growls. “I wasn’t fast enough.”  
            The room instantly gets colder as both Kakyoin and Jotaro look angrier. “We never caught him. And they lived, but…”  
            Her shoulders slump. “Mercia never recovered. I mean, she lived, that wasn’t the problem, but she was never the same afterwards. She…I could always count on her to be cheerful, to have a smile on her face, but she never meant them, not after. And she had even less and less time for me. And there was definitely something wrong with that jerk. He was outright rude to me, and Mercia didn’t say anything. And the Foundation didn’t care. They were happy enough to have another Stand User. They didn’t listen to me when I told them that something was wrong, because I didn’t have any proof. Mercia actually told me to mind my own business. I called Cousin, and he was on a flight in, but you know, I was too late.”  
            Bye Bye Beautiful appears and punches the wall. There’s a dent now, but given where this is going, none of them are very worried about that. Even Willow looks fully wide awake now, and not a little murdery.  
            “So, we go to a museum. We’re having fun, well, as much as Speedwagon can anymore. And then suddenly the lights go out, and the displays are falling on us, and someone’s laughing. And Mercia, Mercia who’s so brave, looks terrified, and it’s up to me. I have to save her. I will save her. So I use B3. I open a portal. I don’t even try to choose where it goes. Anywhere but here. And we run. The problem is, we’re not alone. For the first time, someone manages to follow behind and not get swallowed by We’ll Be Waiting.”  
            Willow’s knife suddenly embeds itself in the ceiling, and she blushes. “Sorry.”  
            “Given the situation, it’s appropriate. We’ll overlook the lack of control this time,” Giles assures in his Ripper voice.  
            “Mercia didn’t tell me before. It’s her idea to split up, so that one of us only is the target, and the other can go get help. And it sounds like a good idea, at first. I mean, Cousin Jotaro is on his way, and by the point he gets here, whoever’s attacking us is going to be severely regretting their life decisions. I forgot that I’d opened a portal to who-knows-where in the world, and it turns out that it’s not even the same world, so there’s no backup on the way. I hear afterward about a woman giving birth with Mercia’s description, and I’m furious. Kiss From a Rose is a pretty impressive Stand; I’ve seen her absolutely destroy with it before, but I’m not even sure she’s got the mental energy to wield it at the moment, and why didn’t she tell me that she was more vulnerable than normal? I would’ve had her back!” Her fists look permanently clenched.  
            “But then I run into him, and it strikes me. How in the world does some sleaze like Sarde know where to find us, when even Jotaro hasn’t tracked us down?” She growls again, but there’s a little bit of guilt in her look now. “But I’m too slow. I realized too late. He used his Stand, and the next thing I know it’s twenty years later and I have a kid I don’t even remember.”  
            Jotaro takes out a cigarette and lights it. There’s none of the calm demeanor from before. He’s absolutely furious, and Kakyoin doesn’t look any less angry.  
            “Incognito—that’s Sarde’s Stand—has the ability to rewrite someone’s life. If I’d been faster, I wouldn’t have lost everything. Suddenly they have memories of a life that doesn’t exist, that never had existed, but everyone else remembers them as that person, too. It’s not like it erases the fact that you had existed. Cousin Jotaro remembered me, even after it’d been used. But, for the most part, you could pass your best friend on the street and they wouldn’t recognize you. Suddenly, Josephine Joestar ceased to exist, and there’s some Jessica Harris woman wandering around. Which, she makes me sick, almost as much as Sarde does. I’m not saying I would’ve been the best parent. I didn’t even want kids. But just…being an alcoholic and ignoring him? And not protecting him from that bastard Harris who I want to punch in the face?” She’s suddenly standing, Bye Bye Beautiful behind her, and even the Stand looks angry for the first time.  
            The silence is dark and heavy. Buffy thinks back. Xander’s mom almost mugging the shopkeeper makes a lot more sense, now. Josephine sits suddenly with a huge exhale. “But there’s no reason to angst about the past. It’s not going to do anything. I don’t have a Stand that can turn back time. What I can do is find that son of a bitch and punch him until his skull caves in. What I can do is rescue my best friend and be there for her like I should’ve been, all those years ago. What I can do is find my son and hers, and make sure they’re all right.”  
            Willow quietly raises her hand like she’s in class again, eyes dark. “How’d you end up back to normal again?”  
            Josephine nods. “Yeah, that’s an important part of the story, huh? Dad found me, with the help of a Stand User from the Foundation. There aren’t too many of them, but the few we do have are pretty impressive. His Stand, Crazy Diamond, can fix things. It fixed me, undid what Incognito did, and in doing so it apparently changed Xander, too. He’s a Joestar now, by blood.”  
            She shrugs. “Dad told me to stay in the hotel. I think he’s on the warpath, now. But I remembered Xander, just a little. Enough that between that and my best friend I couldn’t just sit around doing nothing.” She smiles now, and it’s a real smile, tears and pain and anger and all, but there’s true happiness and hope underneath. “And his message to you. He doesn’t…he doesn’t hate me. He didn’t reject his Stand, which is good, ‘cause it probably could’ve killed him. If he wants the heritage…” she takes a deep breath and continues, “…then he can have a Joestar name. Johan Higashikata.”  
            The story’s over. Buffy’s glad that they ate first, because she’s definitely not hungry after that. And she glances at the others, sees the determination in their eyes, and feels a swell of pride. “We’ll help you kick ass.”  
            The Stand Users nod back. Someone’s going to have a real bad day, really soon.


	13. Calling All Hearts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Buffy's getting sick of just sitting around, and she's not the only one.

            Buffy stands up.  “Okay, I think it’s research time.”

            Giles is briefly distracted out of his Ripper mode.  “There’s a sentence I never thought would pass my Slayer’s lips.”

            She smiles at the Head Watcher.  “Yeah, me neither, but I’m sick of sitting around and waiting.  The sooner we get all of our information lined up, the sooner we can get to kicking butt.”

            He nods.  “I’m glad that my skills are appreciated.”  He stands and goes to refill his mug of tea.  “Caridad and a few of the witches we enlisted were hopeful about having more information for us today.  Faith likewise was trying to find out more about Wesley and the apparently premature news of his death.  And, of course, what nefarious schemes Wolfram and Hart is planning.”

            Josephine claps her hands excitedly.  “I’ll call Koichi and Hol Horse and tell them they can stop bumming it around the hotel!”  She practically skips out of the room, and Jotaro rolls his eyes.

            “I need a smoke,” he mutters and stands up, stretching out a little.

            “I’d appreciate it if you would do so outside, as there are still growing teenagers inside this place!” Giles remarks, and if she’s not imagining things, Buffy thinks Jotaro looks a little more tense than before.

            _Oh, no, the Slayers have been at their campaign of harassment,_ she thinks and tries not to giggle.  Still, maybe she should warn them that right now isn’t the time if they’re not in the mood to get punched through a wall by Star Platinum.

            “Yare yare daze,” he mutters and leaves.

            “Don’t go looking for another fight!” Kakyoin yells after, and then turns to the rest of them with a smile.  “I might as well get in touch with the others, as well.”

            “Should we wait for him?” Willow asks quietly, looking after him, and Kakyoin shakes his head.  “There’s no need.  It’s not the first time he’s borrowed my notes, after all.”

            Giles tsks, but he also looks a little amused.

            Andrew stands quickly.  “Willow, um, would you mind helping me set it up?  There’ll be a lot of different screens, after all.”

            She’s looking slightly more awake with the caffeine, but it’s only a matter of time before she’s bouncing off the walls and babbling at a speed incomprehensible to modern man.  Once the sleepiness fully wears off and the only thing in her veins is the tea, that is.  “Sure, though I’m not sure how much help I’ll be at the moment.”

            “At the moment, just a second pair of hands would be helpful.”  Andrew thinks and then amends that with, "A pair of hands that’s not likely to break all the expensive equipment I put on the Council’s ‘to buy’ list.”

            “No promises,” Willow states with a small smile before heading off to the conference room after Andrew.

            It’s Council policy, now, to keep all the Slayers informed.  When Giles took over, it was one of the first things he changed.  No more barbaric ‘do or die’ trials, unless you count just living life as a Slayer.  No more Watchers moving their pawns on the chessboard, safe in their gilded houses and not worrying about the sacrifice of any chess piece.  So Buffy and Giles and Dawn go to inform the Slayers (the ones here, anyway) about the meeting.  Buffy _really_ doesn’t want to think about it, but that’s a lot easier than it would’ve been even a few months ago.

 

            Jotaro sighs, leaning against the nondescript building and inhaling a cloud of smoke.  He’d let his temper get the better of him, and he knew better.  It wasn’t the first time he’d heard a story like that, but he was fond of Mercia, and the hurt in Josephine’s voice?  It was just too bad that there was no one around who deserved punching, but he wasn’t going to go off on his own again.  That was the mistake of a new Stand User, and something he’d learned ages ago in Egypt, so why’d he forgotten like it didn’t matter?

            Maybe it has something to do with the dreams, with the feeling that there’s something missing and he should know exactly what that is.  He’s been feeling restless ever since he got that panicked phone call, and it’s hard to be sure, but instinct is telling him that it’s more than just worrying about a…cousin, or whatever.

            Someone joins him, though he doesn’t hear any breathing, and he glances over.  He hasn’t met this one, yet, but from the nearly-useless yammering of the gaggle of girls in the house, he recognizes the description.

            “So.  You’re one of this world’s vampires, huh?”  Intelligent green eyes look Angel over carefully as he breathes out smoke into the morning air.  After a long, calculating stare, he snorts.  “I can’t say I’m impressed.”

            It’s rare that Angel is intimidated, even less often that his demon is.  He can admit that Angelus is often stupidly arrogant, refusing to think of many as actual threats, but this man certainly is.  He’s no Slayer, but there’s an air of calm menace that indicates that this man is no stranger to violence, and even the statement about vampires is no mere bluff.

            Angel shrugs.  “If you think I exist to impress you, you’re a bit conceited.”

            That earns a snort, and a touch more respect.  “So, what’s this Wolfram and Hart thing?”

            Angel swallows, even though he really doesn’t need to.  This isn’t a particularly good topic, but then, if this man hadn’t asked, it’d be a Slayer down the road.  It’d be good to have an answer ready when the time came.  “It’s an evil lawyer firm, run by demons.  Several of my friends and I took over the Los Angeles branch, thinking we could somehow use their resources for good.  To fix things.”

            “I’d think someone who’d lived a while would be less naïve about things, but then, DIO was so sure he was untouchable.”  The man deliberately drops his cigarette, grinding it out in a movement that was probably calculated to be intimidating.  It worked.  “Dr. Jotaro Kujo.  Better hope you don’t end up on the wrong side of Star Platinum’s fists.”

            “As long as you’re not going to hurt Buffy or her friends, I doubt that will happen,” Angel admits and holds out a hand to shake.  It turns into a bit of a gripping contest, but then, if they’re going to have to work as allies, they’re going to have to learn to work together and trust in the other’s strength if nothing else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updating with my Jotaro hat on. Because I can.  
> ~Dreamer~


	14. Omake 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Encounters at an airport.  
> This takes place probably before even the prologue.

            A crowded airport, busy with hustle and bustle.  It’s not surprising, then, that people run into each other.  “Sorry about that; I didn’t see you there,” the man apologizes, and then gulps.  The man he’s run into may have a pompadour, which might make him less easy to take seriously, but he’s also ridiculously tall and in a police officer’s uniform, so he’s a little more intimidating.

            “That’s all right,” the man answers in good English, looking more concerned than irritated.  He was in a hurry, but he’s not now.  “What’s wrong?”

            The gaze is directed at his grandmother, and he sighs.  “She’s having one of her not so good days, but we’ll miss the flight.”

            “I really think that food didn’t agree with me at all,” she answers in Japanese, looking like she wants to sit down again.

            The man puts a hand on her arm.  “How are you feeling?” he asks, also in Japanese, trying to calm her.  At least he’s doing better than her grandson, even.

            “I don’t know what is wrong, but I don’t feel right at all,” she answers, looking a little pale.

            “Where are you from?” he continues, still with the soothing voice of a sympathetic authority.

            “S City,” she answers, and this provokes shock for the first time.

            “Morioh?” he asks, and she shakes her head but looks a bit livelier.

            “You’re from Morioh-cho?  Goodness.  I used to drive there now and then, since it’s so close, but it seems so far now…”  She grabs at his arm, staggering a little, and then she looks perfectly fine.  Better than she has in years.  “What did you do, young man?”

            He smiles.  “Don’t worry about it.  Just take care of yourself.”  He glances at the grandson, too, and nods.  “You too.”

            “We’re going to be late!  What are you doing, Josuke?”  The bellowing can be heard from across the airport, and the officer glances up, as, it seems, does everyone else.

            “I’m on my way, just hang on.”  And then he’s off running, carefully but quickly.

            “What a nice young man,” his grandmother remarks.


	15. Omake 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Airplane ride. Probably not ending in disaster?  
> Takes place right after the last omake and probably before the prologue.

            Josuke huffs a sigh as he stares out the window.  _This is anything_ but _great._

            The flight’s had more turbulence than normal, which doesn’t do anything for his nerves, given the stories he’s heard from Jotaro-san.  The last thing he needs is a plane full of people dropping out of the sky just because the bloodline’s cursed, or something.  He really should’ve looked over how a plane works before he got on board, so he could fix it with Crazy Diamond, or something.

            _“Josephine didn’t call you.  I don’t think she wanted to worry you, but according to Hirasawa she’s no longer in this dimension.  She used B3, and she must’ve been over her head, because she’s never opened a door to another dimension before.  I think it’s fair to call you now, especially if I need backup.  I have no idea what she was up against, but I don’t want to wait.  Kakyoin and I are going through, and Hirasawa will be back to meet you.”_   Jotaro’s been acting odd for months, now.  Not that Josuke ever really knows what to expect from his nephew, but he’s been distracted, tired, unenthusiastic even about marine biology (which is _really_ a warning sign, and even Holly and Mom had been discussing it).  Still, Josuke’s tentative asking about his health had been sharply rebuffed.  _Not that I expected any less._   But this is really out of character.  It’s grim, unapologetically straightforward, like Josuke had come to expect, but there’s a note of panic in his voice that he hasn’t heard before.  Worry, yes, but Kujo meets even that head on.

            “Excuse me, officer?” a little old lady asks, voice creaking a little like an old house.  “There’s no problem with this flight, is there?”  It’s the one he’d saved, earlier.  He didn’t realize she was on this flight, too.

            He forces a laugh, glancing down at the slacks.  He’d pulled off the jacket once he’d gotten through security and assumed that’d be enough to stop anyone from worrying.  It’s not like he’d brought a change of clothes or anything, mostly because he didn’t want to waste a minute.  “Not that I know of.  I’m off duty.”  Except he isn’t, not really, but then, you never go off duty from being a father, do you?  Not even when your daughter decides that the Tokyo universities aren’t good enough and goes all the way to London, and you barely get to see her.  Not that he’s bitter; he just misses her.  Her teasing her extended adopted family, who adore her, and fierce video game battles, and just the light and joy she brings, so full of energy.  He misses his wife, too, but there’s no hope of her coming back.

            “But you look so sad,” the woman notes quietly, patting him awkwardly.

            “My daughter’s in trouble,” he admits, feeling nervous energy flood through him again.  Rows behind, Okuyasu’s protests that he got a separate seat sound like they’ve finally died down, and he’s sleeping soundly.

            She immediately looks sympathetic.  “Well, I’m sure you’re a wonderful police officer,” _and there, she sounds exactly like Mom, pride and all_ , “…I’m sure she’ll be completely fine when you arrive.”

            He feels the moment the nervous, aimless energy hones to a useful point.  Crazy Diamond settles in his mind, watchful and ready for the moment he’ll be needed.  “Thank you.”   _There is no other acceptable choice, after all._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta-senpai said older Josuke needed more development before he showed up in Shadowed Suspicion proper, so here he is. (Well, and in previous chapter. Still.)  
> It wound up having the added bonus of more Jotaro exploration in this one.  
> Things will be explained. Some of them sooner than others.  
> ~Dreamer~


	16. War Council

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time to call the War Council, comprised of a number of familiar faces...

            Buffy sits down beside Willow as the room begins to fill.  “Where’s Andrew?”  
            “Conjuring more chairs.  And also maybe making the room bigger on the inside.  I didn’t ask.  I mean, I’m not exactly the one people go to to supervise their magic and make sure they’re not going overboard,” Willow answers, still sounding a little morose.  _Oh, this is probably about Ken.  But I know something that’ll cheer her up.  
            _“Apparently Xander can talk to people in dreams now, because I had a conversation with him this morning.”  As expected, suddenly Willow’s completely awake, and grinning with an excitement that she’s been missing for far too long.  
“Xander talked to you?  How is he?  Is he okay?  Is he mad?”  She’s suddenly a little unhappy again, before she frowns.  “Hang on.  That feels familiar, somehow.”  
“Serious case of déjà vu all over again, Willow?” she asks.  Except, that’s weird, because she remembers it clearly, like Xander had been right there, like it was normal everyday life, but if it’s familiar but Willow doesn’t remember…  
The redhead suddenly snaps her fingers, earning a few sharp Slayer glances, and shakes her head.  “It’s fine, everyone.”  
Quite a few of them have brought in food, but given that she got to have an Andrew cooked breakfast and the rest of them hadn’t, the Head Slayer isn’t about to yell at any of them.  
“It was something…about the vision thing, that Althenea shared with me.  I don’t remember exactly what happened, but.”  She shrugs, looking happy again.  “I can’t tell for sure whether that really _was_ Xander you saw, but it sounds like it, and that’d be nice.”  
“He apparently also has healing stuff.  I don’t know if that was his Stand, or not, but…”  
Willow shares a knowing look with Buffy.  “That means that we can stop worrying about big, poor, fragile Xander.”  
Buffy laughs.  “See, that’s funny, but it’s true.  It’s just…he was the normal one, and kept throwing himself into the middle of things anyway, like he was invincible, and now he might not get all bruised from being thrown into tombstones over and over again.”  
Willow sighs and stares at her hands.  “I kept hoping that he’d actually get to live a normal life, out of all of us, but…that wasn’t realistic, was it?  I just…I hope he doesn’t change too much.”  
Buffy smiles and shakes her head.  “Wills, he will _always_ be our Xander.  Even if his mom renames him Johan.”  
Willow’s eyes widen, but she doesn’t get to reply as suddenly a few familiar faces appear on the TV screens.  
“Testing Spellcam, one, two, three,” Andrew states from somewhere near the doorway, chairs floating in and placing themselves around the room.  It’s crowded, but not as much as Buffy had thought.  But then, she doesn’t really hang out here all the time, either, so it’s not like she’d be able to spot any differences.  “Can everyone see me and hear me?  And do we have _everyone_ contacted, just in case I’m missing someone?”  
“I think so,” Willow answers.  
“We’re all here,” the Coven answers.  
That’s…Riley.  Not what she had expected, but… “It’s best if we know of a potential world-ending crisis when it happens,” he explains for her unasked question.  “According to my superiors, and yes, I had them sign this on paper in blood, ‘We’re not going to go telling everyone, considering that you kept pretty quiet about that Sunnydale debacle.’  You’re just rebuilding your credibility, and something like this could destroy you, so we’re not shouting it from the rooftops.  Knowing us, we’re probably hoping to get some sort of longstanding ‘you deal with my demons and I’ll Slay yours’ deal out of it, but there you go.”  
“Five by five,” Faith responds, waving at where a camera would be.  “How’s it hanging, B?”  
“We’re all still alive and not-vampires, so I’m considering that a success,” Caridad adds, and Josephine laughs.  
“That’s a pretty good definition, yeah.”  Then she turns to the next monitor and waves.  “Hi, Daddy!”  
A man she doesn’t recognize with a pompadour ( _people still have that hairstyle? The confused, luckily inaudible whispering from the other Slayers in the room seems to agree_ ) appears to be fighting a few demons with someone else Buffy doesn’t recognize and a Stand.  He jumps a little and glances around.  “Is that some new type of Stand?  Because if so, that’d be pretty great.”  Then he pauses and realizes something, just as he summons his Stand.  It’s very…pink.  It begins a flurry of punches, shouting Dora, which… ( _okay, that_ probably _has nothing to do with kid’s shows, and I’m gonna keep telling myself that for sanity’s sake.)_ But it’s pummeling giant towering things with spines and claws and a long tail like a lion’s, so that’s probably safe to say.  “You didn’t stay in the hotel like I asked, did you, Jojo?”  
Josephine shakes her head, eyes on fire.  This is one thing that she is actually taking seriously.  “I remembered I have a kid, now.  Who didn’t know how to use his Stand, at the time.  And now he does, so I’m not sure if that’s better or more worrying.”  
The man falters.  And Buffy realizes, _That’s Xander’s real grandfather.  Woah.  …Well, he’s not drinking and either hitting on or hitting ladies half his age, so consider me significantly more impressed.  I_ like _his new family._   
“Now I’m gonna make Sarde wish that he’d never been born _and_ that he’ll never be reborn,” he states grimly, Stand’s next punch taking the monster’s head clean off.  It doesn’t seem to be that worried about it, since it keeps coming.  “There are things no one should miss.”  
“It half feels like _I_ wasn’t there for it,” she admits, and then shakes her head, a smile appearing on her face.  “He’s pretty much my age, so don’t just pummel every Stand User you don’t know, ‘kay?  His Stand’s got something to do with dreams.”  
“So, probably not this one, then,” he muses, pausing.  Eventually, he sighs.  “Could we get some help?  …Okuyasu, don’t…never mind.”  The other fighter disappears beneath the weight of one of the spiky things.  “This is one of the weirdest Stands I’ve ever seen.  It appears to be changing people into weird monsters.  And the User and the Stand seem to be doing pretty well at hiding.”  
“Oh, come on, stop hurrying us.  We thought you and Okuyasu would have this ‘in hand’.  We’re coming as fast as we can,” someone else answers.  It’s a woman she doesn’t recognize, and she’s apparently not a Slayer.  Another Stand User, probably.  
Giles speaks up.  “Actually, that’s not a Stand.  Those are Gjorha demons.  Their tails are their weak spots.  If you separate that from their bodies they, er…well, they won’t be feasting on anyone’s livers anytime soon.”  
“Ewww,” Xander’s grandpa says with a disgusted face.  His Stand dives at the nearest one and pulls out the tail with a pop.  The demon’s just few seconds too slow as it goes into a ball, hitting the Stand with a few of the spikes.  “That hurt,” he states dangerously, and a couple of the Slayers shift in response.  He’s changed classification in their minds, from goofy to dangerous.  And of course, as every Slayer knows, the two aren’t mutually exclusive.  
Buffy speaks up.  It’s probably time for her to do that, anyway, as the nominal leader, and, well.  
She still has trauma from the war with the First, still worries about not being the good leader, still is scared that everyone will turn their backs on her.  But Giles had explained that that was another trick from the First, just a subtle nudge to drive them apart, and in the end, they always came back together.  Nothing can keep the Scoobies apart for too long, she tells herself.  Xander will be back before they know it.  And oddly enough, seeing that other Stand, the one that’s not with Xander’s grandfather, swipe a hand and seeing the tail fall off and the demon curl up is comforting.  She’s had a really weird life.  “Did you try to get in touch with Xander?”  
Andrew shrugs.  “I did, but I guess he’s still asleep.”  
The Slayer nods.  “Okay, that makes sense.”  She glances at the others.  “We’re going to summarize everything that we know, and then we can get the reports of those in the field.  We wanna pool everything we know and have everyone on the same page.”  
“Great,” pompadour comments distractedly, dodging a charging demon.  There’s a period of awkward silence, and Buffy laughs.  “Okay, who wants to start?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta-Senpai suggested that, when including Josuke, I should probably have the omakes to show how he'd ended up here and what he's like as an older Jojo. Thus the last two chapters.  
> I'd kind of had Josephine's exact placement in the family tree as a little bit of a surprise, but realized that it *might* be a little obvious from the way she acts... /grin  
> I really wasn't expecting the opening arrange. ...also, where is all this hair on my laptop coming from??  
> ~Dreamer~


	17. Witchery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Scoobies try to bring their allies up to speed and come to a few realizations.

            Giles stands.  “This started, from our perspective, from a vision.  Admittedly, we acted on it far too soon, too sure in knowledge that was really anything but sure.  It was one about Xander, and based on that, his actions, and a few other documents, we concluded that he’d been replaced by an imposter.”  He takes off his glasses and polishes them.  “Rather idiotic of us, in retrospect, but given that Wolfram & Hart is involved, I checked for spells and found one—that nasty distrust-inducing one.  Yes, Buffy, rather like the one that the First used, albeit less powerful.  Still, given our rather recent, relatively speaking, exposure, we’re probably more vulnerable than others would be.”  
            “Could Simone have had a hand in that?” one of the Slayers, Rois, Buffy thinks, asks.  
            The Head Watcher frowns and opens his mouth to speak, but Ms. Harkness interrupts.  “We haven’t found any evidence that Doffler has any magical talent whatsoever, but a few of the Council witches joined her when she left, and it’s entirely possible they’re working for whoever promises them power.”  
            “Doing it from the inside would be the most effective, it’s true,” Giles admits, sighing.  “And given our recent exposure, we probably should’ve been more on guard against such than we were.”  
            “Why didn’t that affect me?” Buffy asks, and Giles blinks.  
            “W-Well, it’s hard to tell how exactly a spell will affect someone,” Willow speaks up, and everyone in the room goes quiet.  It’s rare, these days, that Willow adds her expert voice when it comes to magic, despite the fact that she really _is_ , well, an expert.  “You didn’t really trust us, and given that it acts on whatever’s already there…it just makes you worse; it doesn’t add anything new, precisely.”  She looks apologetic, but continues, forging past whatever is making her uncomfortable.  “You didn’t step in during the trial.”  
            Buffy opens her mouth, not entirely sure what she’s going to say.  
            “I know, I know, you were going to.  Or at least, that’s what you think.  But it kind of…shoved us back into old, bad habits, and whenever you don’t think you can trust anyone, you tend to go all ‘I am a realistic kind of spy and must do everything myself’.  I can’t be sure, but I think you were going to go after him, or maybe try a big rescue like that other guy did, but you didn’t try talking to us ‘cause when you’re at your worst, you tend to think that’s useless.”  
            The Head Slayer makes a face.  “Thanks much, Wil.”  
            Her best friend doesn’t notice.  Her face is horrified.  “Ugh, I just had a really not so good thought.”  
            “Why don’t you share with the class, Red?” Faith asks, looking intrigued.  
            “W-well.  The reason that Xander went outside was ‘cause he was getting information from the Dead Wesley, right?  It was stuff he didn’t want us overhearing, and Wesley probably recommended it.”  She takes a deep breath.  “That means whatever oogy Wolfram and Hart elements knew where he was gonna be.  And—well, I mean, I’m one of the last people that should be saying ‘nobody’s working ahead’, cause hey, living proof it happens, but a spell like that?  Big mojo, really advanced for where most of the ones that weren’t in the field were in the curriculum.”  She notices the looks and crosses her arms defensively.  “Hey, just ‘cause I generally don’t teach it, doesn’t mean I don’t look it over now and then!  I wanna be someone besides ‘recovering addict’, thanks.”  
            “Wolfram & Hart have quite a number of dark warlocks and other less human spellcasters on staff, more than capable of a nasty spell or two,” Giles states thoughtfully, before shaking his head decisively.  “And, of course, if they’d stationed someone to plant something on Xander, they could easily have smuggled a foci or two, just to make sure the spell continued to work for long enough for their nefarious plans, whatever they were, to come to fruition.  Unfortunately, with the headquarters unrecoverable, there’s no real way to tell for sure.”  
            “I could go,” dark, soft-spoken Sachiko, one of the oldest Japanese Slayers, speaks up.  “With a team, of course.  But clues are important, yes?”  She shakes her head at any possible arguments that might arise.  “I am quiet.  Good at stealth.  There are others who are the same.  The biggest problem is knowing where these ‘Slaypires’ might be.  If they find us, we are likely dead, but it is silly to live in fear of death.  It’s a possibility always, so why should we not do so helping out?”  
            That earns a smile from Willow, and a shy smile back.  
            Buffy has a thought.  “Hang on, Willow.  You said you’re connected to every Slayer on Earth, right?  So, does that include the Slaypires?”  
            Willow looks startled.  “You know, if I didn’t know better, I’d say the spell they used was ‘Make Dumb’.  Not that I’ve been thinking about the witchiness lately, but still.”  
            “The brain is very interconnected, so mind-altering spells rarely affect just their target, though they are far more specific than other means, such as herbal concoctions…” Giles starts in his best lecture voice.  Willow ignores him saying something about the crusades, looking a bit guilty, and closes her eyes.  
            She opens her eyes.  “You know, you think it’d be easier to find everybody individually, now that…” she trails off, and squeaks, “…Not that that’s a good thing!”  
            Buffy smiles at her.  “So, what’s the what?”  
            “Well, it’s hard to be sure, ‘cause the magic is a little confused about the whole Slaypire thing, but I don’t think there are many left in England, and none around the whole HQ.  Most of them are off the coast of Italy, it looks like.”  
            “So, I wasted my time?  Shame!” Faith rolls her eyes when Willow looks panicked.  “It’s called teasin’, Red.  I didn’t waste my time at all, but like a good girl I’m gonna wait my turn.”  
            “Italy?”  Jotaro speaks up from behind Buffy.  She didn’t even hear him come in the room, and it takes a lot to sneak past a Slayer.  _How’d he manage that, given how tall he is and everything?  I_ bet _lunch he’s not a lightweight.  And food isn’t a joke in a makeshift Slayer camp._   The way he’s smiling does not bode well.  “Well, well, that was a stupid move on their part.”  
            Willow scrunches up her nose looking adorably confused.  “Why?  What’s in Italy?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for a slightly loopy (from lack of sleep and staring at math too long) author.  
> Squeaking in under the deadline like a boss, oh yeah!  
> Note: Don't know if I've mentioned Ms. Harkness before; she's one of the Devon Coven. (Their leader, if I'm remembering correctly off the top of my head.)  
> ~Dreamer~


	18. Anxious in Venice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We start to learn why Jotaro was amused about the Slaypire's base of choice...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As might be expected, Part 5 spoilers ahead (not that this whole project doesn't have a spoiler warning plastered all over it), as well as more of the usual Jojo's violence and hinting at situations.  
> See ya next week!  
> ~Dreamer~

            The song finishes, and there’s some polite clapping and cheering.  The band puts away their instruments, bowing and saying “Grazie” to their loyal fans.  A man stammers and presses a crumpled piece of paper into the trombone player’s hands, and the other musicians tease her good-naturedly.  She smiles, no matter that it rankles, for they mean no harm, after all.

            She stuffs it haphazardly into a pocket—it’d do no good to show too much interest in it, after all—and waves, heading off the stage.  She wants to duck into an alley at the first chance she gets to read the message, but notices the three males, reeking of alcohol, who had appeared for the past three weeks only to stare hungrily at her.  They’d nearly been thrown out of the restaurant because they hadn’t bought anything, not even alcohol (which was odd, considering how they _smelled_ ), and hadn’t even contributed to the fund paying the fledgling jazz band.

            She growls.  The Boss is understanding, but not _that_ understanding.  Even if he understands a small detour to take out the trash in Napoli, the delay may well be problematic.  Still, it’s not like she has a choice—their pace has picked up.

            She ducks down a side alley.  She’ll look at the message after she takes care of these morons, who apparently _haven’t_ gotten the message that this is not a town in which they can do whatever they like and expect no punishment in return.  The Boss at the very least was rather displeased at the tip from the police, saying that women’s bodies had been found, and if not for whatever oddity was troubling Giovanna so much that most of the operatives had to be dispatched elsewhere, they would have found themselves dead by now.

            Thinking of that, perhaps he’ll be less displeased about the less than prompt action to the note, especially when he receives the police photos of the crime scene, later.

            She hears a creepy chuckle from behind her.  “Taken a wrong turn, there?  Perhaps we can help?”

            She turns, and she’s wearing a merciless, matching grin, chuckling in a way that makes the own man’s surety falter.  “All I had to do was play a little music like the Pied Piper, and here you come trailing after me, lost little lambs.”  She steps forward a little, just so that the long, trailing scar on her cheek is prominent.  “I’ve got a message for you, stronzo.  The Passione doesn’t approve of your activity of choice.”

            “From what I hear, the Passione’s got it hands full, and given the fact that they sent a _girl_ to do a man’s job after almost a month of our lovely stay here, that was no exaggeration.  Napoli has so many beautiful girls, and they all scream so beautifully.”  The other two start advancing, and she shakes her head.

            “Backstreet Boy!” she calls, and blue streams of what look like musical staffs flow together and weave into the shape of a panther with a skull for a head.  Of course, these idiots, who don’t have a Stand, can’t see it, don’t know the doom that is coming.

            “This cagna’s crazy,” one of them states uncertainly, but one of the advancing ones falters.

            “What’s that music?  Can’t you hear it?” he asks, holding one hand to his head, the other almost dropping the knife.

            “That, my new _friend_ ,” she states ironically, grin growing predatory, “…is _your_ song.  It was your mistake to spend so much time watching me.  I got to hear your music.  I’m just playing it back for you, but I’m a jazz musician.  I can’t resist a little improvisation of my own.”

            The panther gestures with his head, and like a puppet the man swings around, out of control.  His companions stare at him as he blocks the way.  “What are you doing?”

            As much as she’d love to hear them scream, she can only play for one at a time, and that would take _time_.  Time she doesn’t have, not with work to do.  So instead she just allows Backstreet Boy to leap forward with one great surge of energy, tearing into one man’s throat, while her improvised friend stabs his knife through his fellow criminal’s eye.  Her puppet’s screaming, but there’s not much he can do to fight against the music, not when it’s a part of his very soul.  His cries are cut short when he slits his own throat with the knife.

            As much as ghostly sockets and empty bones can, Backstreet Boy glances up, a smirk marred not at all by the blood dripping from fangs.  With a thought and a short burst of a song unique to her Stand alone, he fades back into a blue score and then is gone from view.

            She carefully (disdainfully) steps over the bodies, the spreading blood, taking care not to step in any of it.  From what she can tell, the bloodbath missed her, and if she had to go and _change_ because some monsters attacked her and _got blood on her clothes when she still had things to do in public_ , well.  She would be held up even more, and she doesn’t even know the urgency of the instructions.

            As she exits the alley and carefully wanders away from the scene, she unfolds the paper.  _11:05 exactly, the Cimitero Delle Fontanelle, auction, ARROW—OBTAIN AT ANY COST, call the usual taxi, which will have what you need_

            She swears and instantly brings out her telefonino, calling immediately.  If she hurries, she’ll only be a few minutes late.  Thanks to the tracking, the taxi should already have been on its way, but it’s common courtesy (and protocol) to acknowledge it.  “Sì, this is Grappa, and I’ve received the instructions…”


	19. Spoils of War

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grappa arrives at the sale and attempts to retrieve the Arrow...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can I say I really like Grappa's Stand? ...I really like Grappa's Stand.  
> More on her Stand in the Stand Notes From The Foundation (of course).  
> Also, warning, not that any Part of Jojo's is shy on the violence, but this is part fiveish. So, I guess, just in general. Violence.  
> ~Dreamer~

            The whispered name of Passione is, luckily, good enough to open doors that would otherwise be closed, a proof of the power of the gang.  She takes her seat almost noiselessly in the back of the charnel house, watching the rather pale attendant go to speak to the auctioneer.  Despite this, certain of the patrons turn to glare at her.  Grappa Calabrese is not a woman easily cowed.  If others want to pick a fight, let them; she’ll play them a pretty dirge.  But even she’s a little intimidated by some of these newcomers.  
            There’s a blue one with horns like a demon striding straight out of the pages of the _Inferno_ to cram itself, somewhat incongruously, in one of the folding chairs, another she recognizes as a vampire from recent encounters with its kind, and other, less recognizable things.  Some appear human, but the way that Backstreet Boy prowls nervously in her mind, none of them are anything like those lesser thugs, all too human and all too easy, that she’d dealt with before.  They’d sprung out of the woodwork suddenly, but so many of them acted like they’d been out in what passed for the open in supernatural communities for centuries, and hidden for much, much longer.  
            The Boss himself had gotten involved, and rumors of a Requiem Stand passed like wildfire through the Passione.  Certainly he, Una, and Mista had been kept busy by these, especially by a group of killers who’d set up a base on an island nearby, thinking that they could act without repercussion.  
            The auctioneer, almost human if not for the slight orange tint to his skin, strokes the beard, glaring as well, ignoring the strange jar with glowing gas trembling on the block in front of him until the attendant whispers in his ear.  Suddenly, he’s all smiles, whisking a rose into sight from somewhere and gesturing for her to come up to the front.  “Please, everyone, we’ll continue the auction for the captured Essence of Agony in a minute.  We’re all forgetting our manners.  This is one of the Clan Passion, who extend us their gracious hospitality in allowing us to conduct our business here.  I hope everyone will apologize, and that the Miss will forgive us our suspicion.”  
            Far be it for Grappa to shrink from a challenge.  And a good thing, too, that she’d slipped on the leather gloves, in case of duplicity.  She walks to the front, letting none of her nervousness show, and takes the flower delicately, nodding to the man.  When she turns slightly, she notes that while there’s impatience and a little anger, most have schooled themselves into politer looks.  “It is my fault I arrived late, but I only learned of this auction, shall we say, late?”  
            Surprisingly, that little jab actually earns a bit of a flinch, and some of the other guests look a little more respectful.  The auctioneer wrings his hands.  “May I say, that is incredible lack of foresight.  I cannot apologize too profusely.  In return, perhaps you would like to choose one item for the Clan Passion, free of charge?”  
            She smiles.  It’s not a pretty sight.  “Why, thank you for your generous offer.  I was told that Giovanna,” that’s definitely flinching on the part of some of the guests, “…has his eyes set on one item in particular—an Arrow.”  
            Again, the monster looks nervous.  “Why, you see—”  
            “Are you going back on your offer, now?”  Something told her that these, in particular, had the same sort of honor as was part of Passione.  
            “I bought it, fair and square!”  She turns, and recognizes a lawyer, none too smart, who’d attempted to try to bully Mista on the witness stand.  Mista, of all people.  It was only the Boss who had stayed his revolver.  And—yes, there it is, she can _feel_ it—much larger than your average arrow, golden, with odd, mesmerizing patterns.  Supposedly, she’d seen it before, when she’d received her Stand, but she doesn’t remember it.  She only vaguely remembers the Boss finding her bleeding out on his patio, still isn’t sure how she’d made it there, whether some instinct had guided her.  
            “I believe you know the Kilkij rules, Representative of the Wolf, the Ram, and the Hart.  We must offer a tribute to the Lords of this territory, should they will it, or close business forever.  You will receive a full refund, or perhaps a piece in trade?  I realize that those, too, are mighty Lords, but this is not their territory, and…”  
            “The whole of Earth is ours!” the man yells, and suddenly the auctioneer is slumping to the floor next to her.  She hadn’t even seen him drawn the gun, but she dives behind the auction block, falling back a little as a second bullet lodges in her shoulder.   
            As usual, she focuses on the pain, draws it through her, like it’s a whetstone and she’s a blade.  Instantly Backstreet Boy is leaping from her, covering her with a snarl and a warsong.  Unfortunately, she barely listened to this man’s song, so she doesn’t know enough of the refrain.  Perhaps that’s why she was caught so unawares.  
 _Wolfram & Hart is already on uneasy terms with the Boss, and he was fairly close to barring Italy to them entirely.  I only have to think that he’s acting on his own, since they know the rules and wouldn’t burn their bridges like that.  Besides, that was far too quick to act.  …It probably does mean that he received much the same orders, obtain the Arrow at any cost.  
_            Instantly, she begins playing a song, a different one this time.  It’s rather catchy, but she doesn’t alter it as much, playing it as one would call a name.  Hopefully, she’s spent enough time getting ferried around to get _that_ right.  
            She peeks out from the block, only for a bullet to graze her cheek.  The man’s edging toward the door, when others burst in.  They’d almost be human, if not for the mane.  Still, those are machine guns, completely and utterly recognizable, and just as able to tear through things.  
            The guns begin their characteristic clatter, but surprisingly enough do not make it through the light auction block.  She glances up to see the bullets tearing through the wall behind her, and powdering some of the ancient skulls stacked up.  
            When the guns fall silent, she allows Backstreet Boy to leap out of hiding, and through his eyes sees the cause of her rescue—she had, in fact, managed to get the attention of the taxi driver, who had come to her rescue, shooting all three of the machine gunners.  The other auction guests—the ones that are still alive, that is—growl and make for some of Wolfram & Hart’s people, but the coward with the Arrow is nowhere in sight.  
 _He’s getting_ away.  She allows the Stand to savage some of the others to feel better.  This is a complete and utter disaster and she knows it.  At least the bloodbath of retribution against Wolfram & Hart will send a clear message.


	20. Frontline

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dawn has a secret she's been keeping.

            “Well, as someone with powers, Italy is the last place I’d want to go uninvited,” Jotaro explains somewhat seriously.  
            Giles frowns.  “Well, I suppose there _was_ that one Master Vampire that might take exception to newcomers…”  
            Kakyoin gets a call, turns to one of the more senior Slayers in the room, and then excuses himself.  
            The man frowns and then mutters something that is probably a curse, considering how a few of the Japanese Slayers blush and Kakyoin frowns at his friend.  He continues, heedless, blunt.  “We’ve all been so sidetracked by worrying about Josephine, we forgot about something staring in our face.”  He pauses, as if waiting for the same to occur to his friend, then sighs.  “We ended up here through the powers of another Stand User.  We’re from an…adjacent dimension?  We had no idea what we’d find on the other side.  When we first arrived, no one had even _heard_ of the Speedwagon Foundation.  But by this point, they’ve been able to provide some help, which is a big change.  Had any of you heard of them before?  Or Stands, or vampires of the kind we deal with?”  
            There’s a lot of shaking heads to his statement, and even Riley looks a little intrigued.  “I hadn’t, and I work some pretty top-secret stuff for the US Military.  Anything really out of the ordinary gets passed along to my division,” he explains, realizing suddenly that not everyone would actually know him.  
            “What’re you getting at, big boy?” Faith asks, looking intrigued.  
            Jotaro pauses, looking frustrated.  “I’m not sure.”  
            Buffy notices, however, that Dawn is a little quieter than normal, and pokes her in the side with an iron elbow.  She gets a wince and a stuck out tongue in return.  
            “Come on, Dawnie, spill it.  I know that look.  That is your ‘I ate the cake late at night again’ guilt face.”  
            The guilt gets worse, but Dawn huffs and crosses her arms.  “I really, um.  I hate being not-so-normal sometimes.”  Before anyone else can speak, she cuts them off.  “I’ve never, you know.  Noticed anything about being not-human, but at some point, fairly recently I think, I noticed…”  She sighs.  “It was like the world wasn’t stable, or something, and you know, I _like_ this world and being your sister and everyone we know.  And I just thought something about _not_ wanting the world to end, and it felt stable again…”  
            Buffy blinks.  It’s to the point where they sort of take Dawn’s status for granted and don’t think about it anymore.  She’s just a normal human most of the time, and other than the occasional kidnapping from those who sense her power they thought she couldn’t use, so this comes as a surprise.  Given the family, though, there’s only one real response she can have to this…  “And _when_ were you planning on telling me?”  
            She barely notices Kakyoin, accompanied by four others, including Angel trailing after, re-enter the room.  She has to concentrate all of her disappointed-elder-sister glare powers.  
            Dawn looks sheepish.  “Well, it was late at night, and I thought it might have been a dream…”  She trails off.  “…I’ll tell you next time,” she answers, and Buffy nods.  
            “That’s better.”  She turns to the others, who look a little confused.  “It’s a long story and it’s a little hard to explain, but it’s probably a side effect of whatever Dawnie did.  She doesn’t use her power much, so whatever she did, she probably did by accident.”|  
            Jotaro’s eyes narrow, and Dawn starts looking nervous.  
            Kakyoin places a reassuring hand on her arm.  “He wasn’t complaining.”  He hesitates, then adds, “This would also explain the calendar problem.”  
            Giles looks troubled, but doesn’t actually ask the question.  It’s Willow who asks the inevitable question.  “Um, what calendar problem?”  
            “It’s 2005,” Kakyoin explains, somewhat hesitantly.  That earns a grunt from Jotaro and a distracted “ _What?  Really?_ ” from Xander’s grandfather, just before he gets hit by a tail in the face and goes sailing.  
            It occurs to Buffy that they should probably be a little more concerned about that than just a simple ‘oh, he’s going to have to hurry to get back into that fight’, but then, they’ve been _very_ lucky about avoiding concussions through the years.  Even Xander, before he’d joined the ranks of the not-so-normal.  
            “W-well, I didn’t really have much in the way of expectations when I entered a different dimension, so I can’t say I’m all that surprised,” one of the newcomers offers.  He’s a little short—and shy—but the woman behind him has a glare for everyone and everything that’s a little intimidating, even to Slayers.  
            Kakyoin looks a little sheepish, but he nods.  “It’s been important in several videogames.  I’ve learned to pay attention to little details.”  
            “Yare yare.”  Yet Jotaro doesn’t really look annoyed, just dryly amused.  The smoking break really did help his attitude.  
            “You and Xander would get along,” Dawn informs the pink-haired man.  
            “Okay, if we’re done comparing dimensions,” Buffy states, and then makes a sour face.  “And we’ll all pretend I didn’t just say that.  Does anyone else have anything else to add?”  
            “I dunno, B, I’d like to just focus on this moment a little,” Faith responds, before chuckling.  “Yeah, I know.  I’m just teasing you, lighten up.”  
            “Unfortunately, I don’t have anything to add,” Riley states, and that she can completely believe.  He _hates_ feeling useless.  “There’s been mutterings about some ‘Siphon’, but we haven’t been able to get any useful intel about what this demon might be like.  And we haven’t been able to find any useful prophecies about it, although it’d probably help if one of our generals hadn’t lost it and decided to try to burn everything and go on a demonic genocide.”  He sees her open her mouth and interrupts.  “We dealt with it, though I’d _almost_ wish you were here with me.  Almost, aside from the fact that he was completely human.”  
            Her shoulders slump, but she nods.  “Outside my jurisdiction.  Though I made a bit of an exception for Walsh.”  
            Riley winces, but there’s an amused light in his eyes.  “Pretty sure that when you declare yourself Dr. Frankenstein, you’re stepping over the thin line dividing ‘human’ from ‘monster’.”  
            Several of the Slayers laugh, and there’s agreement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been watching Subnautica whilst doing homework and have come to a conclusion.  
> I want the game. Also, it might cause Jotaro to lose his mind.  
> (In more related news, this might be the most backstory you get for the world of this AU.)  
> ~Dreamer~


	21. The Wolf

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jotaro receives an urgent call...

            The merriment dies down a little before Riley continues seriously.  “The only other thing we can tell you is almost as vague.  We’re aware that Wolfram & Hart is doing _something_ , but we’re not sure what.  After the destruction of their LA offices, they’ve been a lot more disorganized than usual.”

            Faith whistles at Angel in admiration.  “I’ve _always_ wanted to hand in my resignation like that.”

            The vampire looks a little embarrassed at the attention.  “It was more because of the dragons than anything we did…”

            “I’m with the Slayer.  I’m hurt I didn’t warrant an invitation to the destruction,” Spike joins in, a little crackly over the connection, and Angel rolls his eyes.

            “If you’d actually stuck around until the end, you would’ve been there.”  _Being a pain in my behind_ goes unsaid, but it might as well have been shouted, because Buffy is pretty certain everyone in the room heard it.

            “That’s for sure.  Nothing on this ‘Siphon’, but whatever it is, the more I ask about it, the more a lot of the demons think about half-heartedly picking a fight with a Slayer.  I’ve never seen them this afraid of _anything_.”

            Caridad joins in.  “We’ve been getting the odd feeling of being watched, and _we_ haven’t been able to find who’s doing it.  It’s not the Slaypires, or they would’ve made a move by now.  Speaking of which, there’s far fewer of them than we could have dealt with during that battle, even given that nobody was counting.  I’d have worried about this just being _one_ base, but they’re being really skittish.  They’re afraid of something, and they weren’t afraid of Slayers.”

            “They’re definitely up to something,” Faith agrees.  “There was this one big upset around the train, but they’ve gone quiet now after it set off.  Actual real life motion blurs and all.”

            Jotaro’s phone rings, and for a moment or two he looks a little startled, but he soon answers like nothing happened.  “Hai,” he practically barks into the phone.  He waits a second, then smiles.  It’s a slightly disturbing smile.  He speaks deliberately in English.  “We were just talking about you, actually.  You’re probably aware of the vampires that set up on the island.”  He sets the phone down on the table and switches it easily to speaker mode.

            “Why, yes.  One would almost think you had a network of contacts of your own, Dr. Kujo.”  The voice is languid, amused.  “I _was_ curious whether you knew about them, but there is more important information I have for you. Hopefully, you noticed the change in the world, so we needn’t speak about that.  First, about that man you asked us to find.  Johngalli A.  We found him, so to speak.  His body wasn’t very recognizable, but I had the police check his DNA, and one of the Passione also helped confirm his identity.  We sent what’s left of him to the Speedwagon Foundation.  I thought you’d like to see the results for yourself, to confirm that he’s dead.”

            The voice has a trace of an accent.  Italian, Buffy guesses, but then, accents (and languages!) were never her strong suit.  The voice pauses, waiting for some sort of response, but Jotaro looks more confused than anything.  Finally, he asks, “Who?”

            “…Are you all right, Dr. Kujo?”  For the first time, a ripple disturbs the calm surface.  “You were very insistent about tracking this man down.  He was a follower of…” For once, truly hesitant, yet he continues anyway, “…of DIO.”

            “…God?” Andrew asks, looking a little shaken.

            Jotaro snorts, grin positively wolfish.  “He certainly thought so.  He was wrong.” 

            The other still sounds a bit shaken.  “It’s not as if I haven’t had to deal with fanatics before, but I…admit, I don’t recall exactly why this particular one was that urgent—but that has to do with the shift I felt.  I’d compare it to King Crimson, but I’m sure you’ve had experiences that better approximate than I.”

            Jotaro tugs the cap down over his face, taking a deep breath.  He’s upset, too, but it’s hard to read what caused it.  “I don’t remember that, but I can tell you, it wasn’t an enemy who caused this.  You probably noticed the year.”

            “I did.”  The humor is back.  “I admit I’ve been using it to my advantage, but then, you probably expected nothing less.”  A pause, then.  “I’ll take your word for the source, and won’t ask more.   After all, the more who know the secret, the more dangerous it is for him or her, and far be it for me to endanger innocents.  Very well, then, the more pressing concern.”  Suddenly, the voice is serious.  Almost worried.  “I’m not certain if you’ve heard of Wolfram & Hart.”

            There are groans from all around the room.

            The pause is just long enough to indicate that the caller has heard, but he continues as if he’d not heard.  “They’re a group of lawyers.  At least, that’s what they are on paper, though given their actions I’m sure that is a very inadequate title to describe them.  They make _several_ of the previous members of Passione look almost honest.  I stopped Mista from shooting one of them in the face, mainly because as harmlessly annoying as they appear, they have some sort of power behind them.  I don’t want to make a move until I know exactly what I’m up against—the reason they haven’t acted against us, I’m sure.  Unfortunately, they got their hands on a Stand Arrow.”

            Jotaro’s suddenly standing.  “You’re sure?”

            “I learned of its inclusion in an auction too late to get it myself.  We’ve been dealing with our unwelcome island visitors.  We were able to determine that it was placed on a train, yesterday.  I’ve already sent the details to the Speedwagon Foundation, but thought you might be interested in hearing of it personally.  I can send a few of my agents, if no one from the Foundation is close enough, but this is a matter that needs to be acted upon as quickly as possible.”

            From a look at Jotaro’s face, Buffy can tell that this Italian, whoever he is, did everything he could to stop this from happening, to get someone on the train.  Wolfram & Hart is one step ahead of them.  She’s getting tired of this.

            Willow speaks up, sounding determined and strong like she’d had before the whole addiction mess.  “The train has stopped, but it’s in Russia by this point.  They’ve been cheating with magic, a little.  But we can teleport someone onto it, so maybe we’d be able to deal with it better?”

            There’s a chuckle.  “You might.  If you need any help in this, don’t hesitate to ask.  It’s something that concerns us all, after all.”

            He hangs up, and Buffy turns to Willow.

            “Are you sure you—”

            “I’m tired of sitting on the sidelines, and this is important.  I could probably teleport and go pick them up, but I’m not sure how long this train is stopping, or how long I can keep this image in my mind.  I’m not all-powerful anymore.  I’m not even sure how I’m seeing this, so our window of opportunity is shrinking.  Like someone poured acid on glass.  Or something.”  She notices herself starting to babble and shakes her head, forcing herself to focus.

            “Do we think the Slaypires were working with Wolfram & Hart?” one of the newer Slayers asks.

            “Nope,” Buffy states decisively, and rolls her eyes at the startled looks.  “Simone said something about not being a slave.  Wolfram & Hart could’ve offered her power, but I got the feeling she thought she had all the girl power she needed to take over the world.  They’re in the booklet under ‘creepy monsters’, and I think she wouldn’t work with anyone unless she thought she could control them.  So, I’m with the N-O-P-E camp.”

            “I agree with Buffy, and it’s not as if we have a lot of time.  I recommend we focus on this new threat,” Giles responds.  “I’ll help you stabilize the portal, Willow.  Just in case, we should also have a group set out the more normal way—perhaps the Russian group of Slayers?”

            “I’m going,” Jotaro growls.

            “Cous, I want you here to help me find Johan!”  Josephine is pouting theatrically.

            Green eyes roll skyward.  “The kid could be anywhere by now.  And besides, you heard.  He’s got a Stand now.  He can take care of himself.  The Arrow’s a real threat, especially in the hands of assholes.”

            When he turns and sees swirling, peaceful blue closing, he looks like he’s about to pull out Star Platinum and Ora-Ora something that they’ll have to fix later.  “What’s the idea?”

            Willow looks sheepish.  “Well, Slayers would be too obvious.  And it’s not like they’re used to Stand Users, as far as we know.  But just one vampire and a few witches would kind of, you know, not be noticed, and you guys were arguing and the picture was getting a little foggy…”

            “That,” Buffy states, in a dangerous, flat voice, “…might have been another trap you and Giles blindly walked into.”

            “It’s not as if it’s the sort of thing we can just ignore,” Kakyoin argues, the voice of reason, and Buffy sighs, shoulders drooping, trying to ignore the cold working its way up her spine.

            “I’ll go stumble through my Russian,” Giles offers, looking suddenly older.

            “We have to trust each other, and realize that sometimes terrible decisions are made simply because we have to try to do our best with the limited time we have,” Sachiko speaks, quiet but wise, and Buffy lets out a long, deep breath, trying to breathe out all the poisonous distrust.

            “It’s just…it’s been a while.  I’m feeling a little out of practice, saving the world.”  She meets the other Slayer in the eyes.  “Need any help checking out a creepy old abandoned mansion?”

            That earns a laugh.  “Find your friend.  This isn’t a time when any of us can afford to be alone, physically or otherwise.”


	22. The Ram

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sachiko and her team investigate the old Slayer mansion...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for series-typical violence and gruesome. Also for longer than usual chapter.  
> ~Dreamer~

            Sachiko never considered herself superstitious.  Her grandmother was, putting up charms everywhere when her grandfather died, but like any teenager, she’d not put a thought to dying or danger, not until she’d been attacked by a ghost shortly before being saved by a Watcher.  Even after that, though, she’d not been intimidated by the knowledge that the supernatural was real.  As a Slayer, she could fight it, and save others who couldn’t fight.  It was straightforward.  Natural.  Not a sacrifice she had to make, for if she had the ability to do something, why shouldn’t she?

            But as the Watcher, a witch named Kuar with a heavy accent that she can’t identify, drives up to the mansion that a mere month ago had been their home, she feels a sense of foreboding.  Every Slayer has senses beyond the five, often accompanied by visions to help them better accomplish their duty.  Sent by the First Slayer, she assumes, though she’s never thought to ask before now.

            She’s not dreaming, but she feels certain that they’re going to die.  And yet, what would remain in these ruins?  The Slaypires, if the phone conversation was any indication, had all moved on to Italy, and the group of evil lawyers had other things to concern themselves about.  

            Still, she tries not to show this fear in front of the others.  Morale is important, as well.  “We’re looking for signs of a spell.  Move quiet and careful, and if you begin feeling like your mind is affected, call for Kuar or Sylvia immediately.  We shouldn’t be fighting each other.”  Instantly, she realizes that they’re not as prepared as they should be.  They should’ve brought more magic-users, one per search group, but it’s too late now.  They could call off the search, but that would hardly help morale, and they’d be far more likely to be noticed, the second time in.  Cars driving down a dirt road (the back road) which only leads to an abandoned mansion at dusk are out of place enough without repeating the action.  They’d looked over the map on the way, each choosing a particular location for themselves and, for the few who could, the Slayer or Watcher they were paired up with.  They’re as ready as they’re going to be, and it’s the best time they’ll have for this venture, yet…

            Yet trails of ice still crawl up Sachiko’s spine.

            “Got it,” one Slayer replies and fades into the shadows.  If she hadn’t been told otherwise, Sachiko wouldn’t have believed it wasn’t magic of some kind.

            It’s just as eerie as Sachiko expects, traveling through the mission.  There’s an expectant, cruel silence that’s settled over the once familiar, safe environment, so that what was a reminder of home now stands sinister and looming.  She’s tempted to break the silence and begin chatting with Sylvia, just to feel the void that is threatening to consume them disappear, but she’s a senior enough Slayer to know that’s a rookie’s mistake.  She says nothing, makes certain to quiet even her footsteps so that it’s as if they’ve never even been here.

            They’ve been assigned the library, a massive, three-floored monstrosity in the middle of the mansion.  It was somewhere that Sachiko had liked to go, near the beginning, devouring all the books she could find in English to improve her skills, the ones that she never thought she’d need from school.  Now, though, it seems as if every tome will unleash an unspeakable horror, every volume filled with some kind of malevolent force.

            It will also take approximately forever to search.  Sylvia casts a seeking spell, just to be sure, but shakes her head dismally.  “Nothing,” she whispers, and Sachiko is glad she hadn’t spoken before, because the danger seems like it’s pressing down from all sides, now.

            They split up, though within sight of each other.  It probably would be more useful if they took opposite sides of the room, but given how long it will take them to search, it’s more likely to be luck than anything.

            With the army of Slayers and Slayer trainees that had filled this mansion, before, they could easily have finished in two hours, but as it stands they’ve taken a small scouting force and are sneaking around somewhere, by rights, that should be their home, a safe bastion against the evils that threaten.  It’s a chilling reminder of how far they can fall in such a short period of time, that perhaps nothing is safe.

            Sachiko shakes her head, shivering against the darkness and despair.  No matter how strong evil is, they can’t let it triumph.  They’re certainly not going to cringe in fear and just allow it to do whatever it wants.

            Sachiko’s unsure of how long it’s been, but she’s interrupted from her quietly stacking books in order to mark where she’s searched on the shelves by a shaking voice.  Sylvia’s.

            “C-come look at this.”

            Instantly she does, footfalls nearly silent against the floor.  And stares in disgust at what’s in Sylvia’s hand.

            It’s an eyeball, bloody and grotesque, complete with blood vessels and nerves.  As a Slayer, Sachiko’s seen people dismembered, demons that resemble humans if they’re turned inside out, but this…

            It’s still moist, which means…it’s fresh.  Someone’s been here recently.  She glances at the bookshelf.  There’s more blood, and the blood vessels appear to have been torn accidentally by Sylvia as she retrieved it from the shelf.  They trail back and lead out of sight behind the shelf, in the small space between the shelf and the wood behind it.

            “Wh-who would do this?” Sylvia stammers, louder than she should be, but it’s not as if Sachiko can really blame her.

            “And why?”  It’s not as if it could be a warning of some kind.  There’s no reason to think that anyone would find it, given that, since the state of the organ, it would have had to been placed after the mansion was abandoned, which means that the perpetrator would know no one lived here anymore.  Never mind the fact that placing it behind a book in the library of upwards of two million books would mean it would be unlikely to be found, in any case…

            Her instincts are screaming at her.  They need to get out.  Instantly, she’s struck by a thought more horrible, glances carefully at the eye color.  “Sylvia, do any of the Slayers we came with have green eyes?”

            The Watcher blanches and looks about ready to throw up, before reason returns a little and she shakes her head.  “N-no.  None of us do.” 

            They both nearly sigh of relief, before Sylvia has another thought.  “I’m going to do a spell.”  She pauses, mumbling, and almost messes up the pronunciation twice, which has Sachiko shifting from foot to foot nervously.  “I…the owner of this eye is dead,” she states bleakly, beginning to shake again.  “I see a corpse dumped into the sea…but…wait.”  She shakes her head, looking terrified, and Sachiko tries to snap her out of it.  It’s too late, apparently.

            “There’s a face, too.  It’s…the eyes aren’t green, but it’s like he’s also an ‘owner’ of this eye…”

            Sachiko puts a hand on the other girl’s shoulder, shaking her firmly.  “We need to leave.  Now.”

            “I think you’re right,” the girl agrees, and opens her hand once more with its monstrous find.

            And, as if alive, the nerves and blood vessels suddenly move, spearing into Sylvia’s own eye as if they’re knives.  She doesn’t even have the time to scream as they scoop out her own eye and begin to burrow deeper.

            Sachiko immediately lets go of the girl’s shoulder, meeting the other, anguished eye before running.  She wants to help Sylvia, save her, but Slayer instincts tell her that the girl is dead, and unless they leave the mansion now, the rest of them will be as well.

            The time for silence is over.  “Retreat!” she screams at the top of her lungs.  She meets others, some confused, some horrified, running with just as much urgency.  None of them question.  They’ve all been trained well.

            They nearly make it to the entrance, only to see a wall of water, heading in their direction.  “Up!” one of the other Slayers bellows, and they go.  There’s no time to worry about why it’s flooding.  They need to survive and escape.

            They make it to the top of the stairs, but quite a few have been dragged under the water, and Sachiko glances back to see a body, bloated unnaturally, float by.

            “You need to survive and tell the Scoobies about this,” a girl whose name Sachiko guiltily cannot recall, states, and pushes her out one of the windows.

            She falls, a little wet and bloody, peppered with glass, but alive. She glances up to see the water surge out of the window like it’s alive before retreating.

              She tries to make it to her feet, sobbing desperately in her need to stay alive, to warn, as she hears footsteps approach.  But she’s too weak.

            She glances up to see a man, elegantly dressed, walks up to her.  “Excuse me.  Might I inquire to the nature of this building?”

            She just stares at him, so he bows.  “I apologize for bothering you.  Have a nice day.”

            He begins walking away, and she makes to get up, perhaps to drag herself along, only finds she can’t.  There’s a line she can’t cross, and it’s begun to fill with water.  She screams and pounds on the invisible wall, but no sound escapes. 

            She notices a branch on the ground and attempts to dig, but finds there’s an invisible wall there, too, and soon the water is sweeping her up higher.  She pushes the bough against the “wall” hard, and with a Slayer’s strength it almost looks like she’s making it through—until she pulls it back and notices that it’s been cut cleanly.  She can’t make it out that way.  She reaches up and touches what feels like a ceiling.  So the water will keep rising, until it drowns or crushes her.

            If one of the witches was still alive, she might stand a chance.  Whatever type of trap this is, the witch could possibly free her, and he looks like just a man with powers, and that’s no match for a determined, angry Slayer in close combat.  Of course, there are some demons that look human, but even so, she’s seen Slayers accomplish the impossible, particularly when backed by magic.

            Still, she’d known.  She’d had the feeling that today was the day she would die ever since they began this trip.  It’s too late to worry about dying now.  But if anything she’s learned in her time with the Slayers, let alone her own personal optimism, it’s that even when heroes die, the Big Bad doesn’t have to win.  She may not be able to do much, but she’s seen what Willow or even Andrew are capable with the technology and magic in their hands, and she believes with the same strength that she will die and they’ll be able to find her last, dying message.

            Hopefully it’ll be enough.  Hopefully they’ll win.  But—no, she refuses to believe otherwise.  They _will_ win.

            She pulls out her Slayer-issued phone with water-chilled trembling fingers, for once glad of the expense of the waterproof version that Buffy had insisted on.  Urgently she presses the power button, waiting impatiently.  Her hair is now touching the tip of the invisible box, but she’ll get out what she can.  At least Slayers can hold their breath for longer—that’ll give her a little more time to get a message out.

            For once, Sachiko wishes she’d actually tried to text better, faster, done more before, but she’d never considered it a useful skill.

            It’s a testament to the strength of a Slayer that she lasts as long as she does, but eventually, fingers still, then crunch under the sheer weight of pressure.

            He pauses at the gates by all the cars and glances back.  The body, or what could generously be called a body, falls, the water falling around her like a sudden cartoon downpour and seeping into the ground quickly, as if it had barely ever even been there.  There’s not much left, so she won’t pose a threat, and it’s not as if he left many clues as to what had happened there, anyway, so it’s not an entirely wasted trip.  He smiles, but his features blur, and then he’s swallowed by the fog.


	23. The Hart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angel searches for the Arrow on the train...

            Angel _had_ been hoping that this would be easy.

            Since when is it ever easy.

            They’d already done a cursory run over the train, at least, the parts they could reach without getting spotted by anyone.  That was mostly relegated to the back and the baggage cars, but knowing the love Wolfram & Hart had for misdirection, placing it out of sight of any guards as if it’s unimportant would be the sort of thing they’d do.  Unfortunately, they hadn’t been able to find it that quickly.

            At least a blizzard had sprung up, stopping the train and preventing it from reaching its destination, and it also allowed him to move around easier without fear of immolation.

            He sighs, turning to one of the witches, a girl he’s worked with before, Iona.  She’s not much good in a fight, but she can cast a spell to cause them to go unnoticed and another to alert them if anyone’s noticed.  The troublesome part will come when they actually find the Arrow, since attempting to remove it will probably be enough to overcome the glamour.  He opens his mouth, but she grins.  “Got it,” and begins casting.

            There’s a reason he likes working with her.

            He glances at the other one.  The quicker they get off this train with the prize, the better.  “You search the front.”  She nods, but then pauses.

            Iona’s pocket is ringing.  This could jeopardize the whole mission, but on the other hand Willow might be calling with a warning, or other essential information…

            “Hello?” she answers, trying to seem normal.  Her act stutters a bit when she nearly drops the phone.  She holds it away from her ear, turns to the other witch.  “Mateja, could you hold this for a moment?”  She finishes the spell, hands trembling but voice bravely strong.  “Okay, you can turn it on to speaker, now, but we can’t talk for long because with stronger spells we’re pushing detection.”

            “Hello,” Willow says, but it sounds like she’s been crying.  “Remember that thing about some Slayers going to the mansion?  Well, we got worried when they didn’t report back, so Andrew and I used a few spells to recon, and we should’ve done that before, because…”

            “Because they’re all dead,” Andrew states bluntly, but given the glassy sheen in his eyes, he’s not unaffected either.  “We got some magic photos for you so you might have some idea of what you’re dealing with.”

            Angel feels the demon in his heart push itself to the surface and growls, holding the Game Face at bay.  He doesn’t need that, yet.

            The bodies look bloated, waterlogged.  Most look like they drowned.  Miles from the sea, in the English countryside.  There had been the small stream in the back, but it was hardly enough to look like a ship had capsized, or a submarine had flooded.

            Angel had been through both.  He remembers the damage it can do, particularly to humans.  Remembers Angelus using it.  He always did like playing with his food.

            There are only a few for whom it looks like it was more violent—two with their eyeballs scooped out (which was considered a delicacy for some demon species, but they weren’t usually this careful about removal—this almost looks…surgical?) and one whose body is hardly recognizable, as if she’d been placed in some kind of press and squeezed until she was just one giant mass of blood and bones and chunks of flesh.  The last also looks like she’d almost gotten away from the slaughter, since the body is at least outside of the mansion.

            “I—I’m sorry, Iona, but…it looks like that last picture is Sachiko.  Your vanilla CSI couldn’t probably identify her without the DNA, but magic is a lot harder to fake.”

            Iona quickly wipes away the tears.  She still has to think about survival, after all, and anything that might draw more than cursory attention to her is counter to that wish.

            “We did discover something, besides the mansion—inside—being flooded and the rest of the grounds _not_.  Apparently, she was trying to type a text message before she died, and we can only assume the message was meant for us, or maybe you, since you’re the ones possibly in harm’s way.  She never actually sent it, and the phone was completely crushed, so we’re probably the only ones who could’ve gotten it.  We never know—he might have teleportation or something, besides the water stuff.  There’s only three words—‘water trap eye’.”

            It could possibly mean just the obvious—the removed eyeballs, the water trap, but if so, there was no reason to send the message, since the magical surveillance would’ve found that, anyway.  She’s trying to warn them of something else.

            “Is that all?”  He’s having trouble keeping a low profile and not just tearing apart everyone on this train besides the two he came with, but even a Master Vampire would have trouble with that much.

            Willow pauses, then sighs.  “Pretty much.  You’re not getting any backup for a while, though—the Russian Slayers are used to blizzards but it still takes them a while to get through one and that’s the only part of the world where the weather can actively interfere with teleportation spells.”  She pauses.  “Well, maybe besides Antarctica.  I haven’t tried to get anybody there before.”

            Angel smiles a little.  He’s missed talking to Willow, working with her, and it’s not quite as awkward as working with Buffy, even though he misses her, too.

            She sees the smile and points a finger at her, mock-menacing.  “You be careful, mister.  I don’t want to have to tell Buffy about you, too.”

            He nods, slightly more serious.  “I wouldn’t want that, either.”  And he turns the phone off and glances at the other two.

            “The spell is on, so we can look now.  The sooner we find it and get off this train, the better.”

            “Mateja, it’d be better if you could connect us using magic, so the instant that something goes on, we can contact each other without alerting the whole train,” he suggests, and the witch does as he asks.  Then they split up.

            It doesn’t take long for him to find something, but it’s hardly what he expects.

            It’s…he doesn’t even remember the name, but it’s a vampire.  A relatively low one.  He’d been visiting the LA branch on the day of the battle.  Illyria had survived, and so had he, but they were the only ones.  Even running away or hiding wouldn’t have been able to protect a lowly vampire from the slaughter, so how had he survived?  And what was he doing here, now, boarding the train?

            Some answers were required, and Angel knows exactly where he’s going to get them.  It’s time for Game Face, now.

            “I have some questions for you,” he states, menacing, hands in place to snap the neck and dust him if necessary.  The vampire shivers and nods, submissively going the way he’s directed without argument.  Scared amber eyes seem even larger behind the glasses.  Soon, they’re in one of the luggage compartments.

            Angel’s hardly going to let go.  He doesn’t trust this vampire.

            And with the way the humble manner disappears, the stranger standing up almost unconcerned for the hands around his throat, Angel feels a menace that he usually only associates with fellow Master Vampires, and he panics.

            One simple twist would silence the stranger forever, but he doesn’t get a chance.  As if by fluke chance, a pipe breaks off the wall, the high-pressure stream of water knocks his hands harmlessly away, then immediately slows to a trickle.  And he remembers the warning— _water trap_.

            “I don’t mind answering your questions,” he answers, conversational and polite, “…but I have three questions to ask you in return.  I’d like a trade.  Fair’s fair.”  He sits back against the crate behind him.  “The first question is, who else knows about the Arrow?  The second question is, what do you intend to do with it?  The third question is, where do you want your tombstone?”

            Angel can’t find it in himself to speak, and the man sighs, shaking his head.  “I’m sorry, was that gauche?  Should I have said ‘where do you want your ashes’?  But it doesn’t have quite the same ring to it, and you want to be remembered as a hero, not just as the vampire.”

            “So you’re here for the Arrow, too?” Angel asks, quickly going through his many fights, trying to find the best way to kill this threat before he’s killed in return.  He reaches for the spell to warn the others, but finds it missing.

            “If you’re trying to contact your friends, I’m afraid it’s of little use,” the man continues, with that smile on his face, and suddenly Angel sees red.

            He charges with a roar.

            “Well, really, there’s no call for that.  We can still be _civilized_ ,” the man states with a grin almost as savage, and water rises from the floor, whirling around the man.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To Be Continued
> 
> (*the ending song, War of Change by Thousand Foot Krutch, starts playing.* That's actually been the ending song since Volume I. The opening song, Light 'em Up by Fall Out Boy, is probably going to change after the first few 'episodes' (i.e. chapters) of the next volume.)  
> ~Dreamer~


End file.
